Assassins and Aurors
by MuggleBeene
Summary: James S. Potter has just completed advanced Auror training, and upon returning back to Britain has been handed a case where Blaise Zabini has been murdered by someone using Muggle means that is aware of magic. What seems like a standard case will take him further into the past and will affect his future, professionally and personally. Not part of the Professor Muggle series.
1. Assignments

**Assassins and Aurors**

 **Chapter 1: Assignments**

 _2026_

The building was nondescript, as all the buildings on the base seemed to be, cut from the same utilitarian stamp with none of the ornamentation or grandeur that he had known before the program. After a year he knew he should be used to it, but it still struck him as boring and slightly oppressive. Slightly oppressive; that was the base in a nutshell. He shouldered his pack, took off his hat and stuck the sweaty thing in a pocket on the side of his uniform trousers and scanned the signs for his departure gate. Everything retained the flavour of a standard international portkey station, but instead of different types of people, families, children, lone travellers wearing all sorts of clothing it everyone walking about was wearing the same uniform, only with slight deviations. He headed forward, spotting a sign that corresponded with his departure orders and glanced at his watch. 1500. Still an hour to go.

Even though the place was filled with cooling charms it was still hot; the Arizona sun was relentless. Compound the heat with the fact that he was tired, bone tired. He'd had to undergo the final meeting with the program advisor before being officially released and that meeting was at 0500. From there it was a trip to the quartermaster's office, the check-in of all his equipment barring his uniform and other personal effects. The idea of a quick lunch at the barracks ended quickly when some of his fellow program members spotted him, which led to a trip across the base to the small, pitifiul excuse for a pub. Over one last cheeseburger and chips, not to mention the watery ice-cold stuff they called beer, they teased him mercilessly. About his famous surname getting him out of the more unpleasant assignments they were going to, about his 'indescretion' that had landed him in trouble, about arriving and ordering spotted dick and warm beer upon arriving home, all sorts of things. He took it well; after all, he'd been in Gryffindor and had heard much, much worse. But then the combination of beer and fatigue began to set in so he told them he needed to get to the portkey station. It was another hour after his attempted exit that he finally made it out, the sun blinding him slightly, as always.

He made his way through the throngs at the station, used the loo and then decided to find his gate. There was no other person at his departure gate; only a dented petrol can sat in the middle of the floor. Feeling fatigue seeping into his bones, especially his arms, he studied a map on the far wall and walked what seemed like the entire length of the station to the coffee kiosk. Normally he drank hot coffee, but the heat combined with the beer still lurching in his stomach made his decision. One very large iced coffee with whipped cream later he headed back to the gate, happy to see the attendant at the little desk, writing on a piece of parchment.

The man looked up. "London portkey?"

He nodded and handed over his departure papers, ID and British passport.

The man looked at the papers, up at him, and then took a stamper out and quickly thrust it down on the papers, the passport and handed it back to him along with his ID. "Potter, James. You're the only one for the portkey today, Potter. Don't do Arizona to London very often. Not very many Brits come over, you know."

He nodded. He'd heard it from the first day he'd stepped foot on the base. "So I understand."

The man nodded. "I bet. I'd let you take it early, but, you know. Regulations."

"Not a problem." He held up the iced coffee. "Gives me time to finish this."

"Thought you Brits drank tea?"

He shrugged. "Developed a taste for it. Not everyone in Britain drinks tea, you know. Some like coffee."

"Huh." Man made a face. "Learn something new every day."

That signaled the end of the conversation, so he went over to the benches and sat down, stowing his papers and other items in his chest pocket underneath the patch that read POTTER. He'd complained about the robes at Hogwarts but now, after spending a year in fatigues and other uniforms, he was looking forward to wearing a robe. After all, you could wear whatever you liked underneath unless it was something formal. Merlin knows his Uncle George wore the most mental things under his Wheezes robe. One time he'd worn flowered Bermuda shorts and a black and red striped shirt.

George. That made him think of his family. He hadn't seen them in a long time, and hadn't been able to contact them. Part of the program, no communication with anyone outside of the program as it could potentially compromise everything. It was a rule, and they were sticklers for rules, particularly when they trained with the Muggle units. It would have been nice to have a welcoming committee of sorts, at least his parents, but that would have to wait.

"Potter, it's time."

James stood up, shouldered his pack and walked over to the petrol can. Unfortunately it had to stay on the ground, regulations of course, and he leaned down and put a hand on the top of the can. After a moment it began to pulse with a bright blue light, he felt the tug and left Arizona.

After the austerity of the base the London portkey station was an assault on the senses. Mostly the noise. It was noisy as hell, people talking, a father rounding up his children and forcing them to run, their mum behind, chiding them along. He took out his wand from the sheath built into the sleeve of his olive green fatigues, tapped his watch and saw the hands spin until they adjusted to the new time. 2100.

As he made his way out of the gate and went to the arrivals desk it was a repeat of the conversation with the gate agent in Arizona, albeit with a more comforting accent. Yes, not too many people came in from Arizona, yes, he'd been with the military over there, here's my ID, papers, thanks for the stamp, yes, I'll move along as I know there's another portkey due soon. He assured the witch at the desk he'd pass on her regards to his father, knowing that he would do no such thing as his dad would have no idea who she was.

He thought about Flooing over to the flat he shared with his brother but thought against it; he had no idea if his brother was home or not, as it was a Saturday night, and with the restrictions on their Floo someone had to be there to open it. Unrestricted Floo access was something that his father had vehemently argued against, and there were times that the old man knew what he was talking about. Thankfully there was a park not too far from his flat that had a very out-of-the-way location that he'd used before, so once he'd exited the portkey station he turned and Apparated away.

It seemed so odd to see his building after so long away; London was full of sound and movement, dark and, as always, threatening rain. He walked out of the park and made his way into the building, happy that the security phrase to enter hadn't changed. He didn't look forward to spending the first night back at his parents. After the day he'd had the idea of enduring the multitude of questions from his mum, especially, was the last thing he needed. The stairwell was dark, lit only faintly by the candles that never seemed bright enough. Finally, though, he stood in front of his door. Thankfully the key, once inserted into the lock, glowed an approving green, so he turned the key and then the doorknob, glad to be home after all the time away.

From the moment he stepped in and let his pack fall from his shoulder he knew that something had happened, as Albus was always a bit of a slob. The place was extremely tidy. Granny Weasley-approved level of tidy. The lights were low, but he did hear a bit of music coming from down the hall; Albus must be up reading. He headed down the hall, opened the door to Al's room and stopped short.

It wasn't Al. On the bed, on her stomach, was a blonde woman wearing a pair of white knickers that didn't cover much of her arse and a skimpy pink vest. She was facing away from him, tapping her toe slightly to the music as she reached over and turned a page on a book. For a moment he thought about backing out of the room without saying anything but instead he cleared his throat.

"Al, did you get the curry or the chicken haleem?" She asked without turning her head from the book.

James raised an eyebrow. A slight French accent? His geeky little brother had pulled a French bird? "Sorry, I don't have either."

Her head snapped up and she turned over, a wand in her hand. "Who are...oh!" She sat up, completely blasé about her lack of clothing. "You must be James. Al said you'd be back soon. He went out for takeaway, he'll be back shortly." She smiled at him. "I'm Chloe Laurent."

"Nice to meet you, Chloe." He stood there for a moment, unsure of what to do, not to mention say, next. "Um, I'll just drop my things off in my room."

"Oooh." Her voice fell. "I am sorry, but your room...we made some changes while you were gone. It can be fixed, but perhaps not tonight."

"Great. Ok. Great." Without another word, and pointedly looking away from the cleavage on display he turned and went across the hall to his door. After opening the door it was quite apparent that he wouldn't be sleeping in there, as a large desk dominated the room, surrounded by several file cabinets, a shelf full of Muggle things and a smaller desk covered with folders of parchment. Before he could wonder exactly what was going on with his room he heard the door and his brother's voice telling Chloe what he'd purchased from the takeaway.

Not feeling very charitable towards his brother, James walked out of his room and met Al in the hallway. "I'd rather have fish an' chips."

"James!" Al set the bags down on the floor and went over to him. "When'd you get in?"

"Just now." James scowled at him. "So my room's some sort of office and I met Chloe."

"Oh, yeah. Chloe. Tell you later." Al smirked at his brother and raised his head in the direction of his bedroom. "Hi love, James is here."

James turned to see Chloe, still not fussed about her attire, in the doorway. "Yes, I met him moments ago. Come now, I'm hungry."

It was later that evening, on a magically expanded sofa, that James laid there and listened to the distant noises of the city. After so long in barracks, with only snoring as a background, it was comforting. He'd have to do something about the flat, though. Al and Chloe had assured him that his things were safely stored and shrunken, that it wouldn't take but a few wand waves to change it all back, but it was readily apparent that it really wasn't his flat anymore. It was Al and Chloe's flat. He'd have to find another place soon, honestly. After being gone so long and looking forward to coming home it was disappointing that home, well, wasn't. It wasn't what he'd left, instead it was like every trace of him was removed except for a few pictures. He'd ask his dad to help him look for a new place soon, maybe even his mum. Merlin knows his mum would love the project, but he didn't think he could handle all the baggage that went along with having her help. His dad would be much easier. He'd ask them in the morning, when he went to see them.

His watch buzzed slightly. 1 in the morning. He was tired but sleep was not coming easily; he turned over on his side, pulling the thin, summer duvet over his shoulder. He'd get a day and then he'd have to report in to the Auror department. His father had told him a long time ago, when he'd expressed interest in the Aurors, that it was a demanding job. He laughed, but it was without mirth. Sometimes he hated it when his father was right.

-ooo-

"POTTER!"

He sat down the cup of takeaway coffee and looked over to the Auror next to him, some bloke named Mercer, who simply shrugged. After pulling the red Auror robe with the pale blue chevron on the sleeve off of the peg he half shuffled towards the Head Auror's office. He looked over his reflection in between the letters on the nameplate of GAWAIN ROBARDS – HEAD AUROR to make sure his hair was ok and then knocked on the door and entered. Unfortunately for him one of the sleeves was turned inside-out, which meant that he opened the door and stood in front of his boss' office with his robe only partially on.

"Potter." The man behind the desk shook his head in something close to disgust. "You've been off in America for the last year so I'll cut you some slack. Answer me this, do I have on my official robe?"

He looked at Head Auror Robards and shook his head. "No, sir."

"Right. Does anyone out there..." he motioned outside his office without taking his focus from the mostly idiot in front of him. "...have on their official robe?"

"No, sir."

"When your father was an Auror, and you visited him here at this very office, did he wear his official robe?"

"No, sir."

"Then what in the _hell_ makes you think you needed your robe on to come into my office? Is this another one of those yank things? Is it, Potter?"

James kept the emotion off of his face, hopefully. "Yes, sir. It is, sir."

"Sir, sir, sir, at least that program taught you something. Take off that bloody robe and sit down."

James pulled off his robe, sat down in the chair in front of the desk and folded his Auror robe quickly, placing the robe in the chair next to him. He then sat ramrod straight, almost at attention, as Robards looked through a folder.

After flipping a few parchment pages Robards looked up and rolled his eyes. "Merlin, kid, you're not...relax. Christ, you've been back, what, two days?"

"Yes ,sir...sorry." James exhaled and slumped slightly, sitting in the chair and moved his focus to Robards instead of simply straight ahead. "Been more like one and a half. Probably more like one and a quarter."

Robards watched him for a minute. "Right. Seen your parents and all, then? All caught up?"

"Not really..." James kind of shrugged. "Just Mum and Dad and my youngest sister. Haven't seen my oldest sister and I haven't seen all the Weasleys..."

"That'd take all week or more." He paused and loosened his tie a bit, absentmindedly picked up his wand and flicked it to open the office windows somewhat, letting in a slight breeze. "Ahhh...much better. Ok, I didn't want to do this but, to be honest, you're the best qualified even if you haven't been here for a while. I'm also glad your dad retired so I don't have your mum in here yelling at me when she finds out." He paused for a moment. "She'll probably yell at me anyway, won't she?"

"I'm not sure, sir, it depends..." James paused mid-sentence as he saw the look he was getting from his boss. "She probably will unless Dad stops her."

Robards looked out the window, as if deep in thought with his brows furrowed. "Hmm...haven't had Ginny yell at me in ages, all right, don't tell her until I'm gone for the day. Or not at all. I like not at all. Don't tell her a thing. Let ol' Harry take that." He turned back to James. "Why don't you pretend I'm as thick as Lupin and remind me what you did all last year?"

That made James smile as Teddy Lupin was the smartest person he knew; hell, even Aunt Hermione said he was 'annoyingly brilliant.' It also meant that Robards probably wasn't as irritated as he seemed. The smile faded rather quickly, though.

"What you did last year _besides_ the colonel's daughter." Robards began looking through the folder again, this time whilst sitting back with his legs crossed as if it was a lazy Sunday afternoon.

James swallowed hard. "Monica was in the report?"

That question made Robards lean the folder down and look at him, this time somewhat seriously. "No, Potter, they didn't put her in the official report, and you better thank your lucky stars they didn't. Your CO _did_ send it to me for _your_ file, though. What the fuck were you thinking, colonel's daughter, you two starkers and in the swimming pool at three in the bloody morning? And tell me the truth."

"We thought they wouldn't be home until a couple of days later."

Robards tossed the folder on the desk and leaned forward. "Are you an Auror or not, boy? No perimeter warnings, no monitoring charms, not a bloody thing. Sloppy as hell." He reached forward and slid out a photo, adjusted his reading glasses and shook his head. "Don't blame you though, fit thing, isn't she? Don't answer, shouldn't have said that." He put the photo back in the folder. "So, tell me, Potter, even though I can read it all in the folder, tell me what you learned at camp last year."

After a quick, deep breath he launched into it. "Muggle military and police training, emphasis on close quarters combat, firearms, urban infiltration and extraction. That was the first six months, then six months with the American Magical Enforcement Bureau regarding practical applications of magic for undercover assets in Muggle intelligence operations."

"So you learned how to punch people, shoot people and do wizarding spy stuff. Right?"

He thought for a moment, and then nodded affirmatively. "Yeah, sounds about right."

"Good." Robards reached over and pulled out something flat and metal, approximately half the size of a chocolate frog card. He reached into his desk, pulled out a box and put it on his desk with a thump. After placing the flat metal thing in the box he flicked his wand, closing the window shades and lowering the lights until they were almost completely off. Then, that completed, he tapped the box. Light shot out of the box, all around the the sides, and then came together, focusing on the far wall.

James looked back at his boss. "Is this..."

"Yes, its one of Lupin's things, he'll tell you all about the 'theory and application' later if you need a cure for insomnia. Pay attention and tell me afterwards what you saw."

The flickering images on the wall suddenly sharpened into crystal-clear focus, albeit in black-and-white. It was a shot of a long hallway, the focus from above, with only a solitary figure in all black coming down the hallway. The figure had something covering its face, and as it passed by the location of the camera the images changed to show the figure stand outside a door. After examining the door a small item was placed on the door and the figure ducked. The door blew open inwardly, a cloud of smoke obscuring everything momentarily. A man walked out through the smoke, waving it away... _siphoning_ it away with his wand. As the man walked forward, waving his wand, James realised that he'd never seen the man before in his life. And then, as the man turned around, the first figure in black walked into frame, a Muggle pistol pointed at the man. It appeared they were talking but then the man cast a spell. The figure disappeared, then re-appeared behind the man, placed the barrel of the pistol against the man's head and pulled the trigger. After the man fell forward the dark figure waited a moment, took a step forward and several flashes came from the pistol, making the man's body move slightly on the floor. Then, the figure looked towards the camera, walked forward and then stopped. After retrieving the man's wand the figure emphatically snapped it in direct view of the camera.

That was it. The recording ceased, and after Robards had returned the lights to their appropriate illumination and opened the windows. He looked over to James. "Lupin's lot intercepted that through their normal channels. Tell me what you think, first, then I'll brief you."

James sat back for a moment, drummed his fingers on the arm of his chair and then started to speak, stopped, and then started again. "The woman..."

"Woman?" Robards raised an eyebrow. "How in the..."

"It's...it's a woman, ok? She moves like a Muggle, one of their more advanced agents, but she knew about the wand and it looked like she disapparated. I think we can probably count on one hand how many Aurors know how to use Muggle firearms, but it's most likely someone who was raised as a Muggle until their first year of magical schooling, with the handgun and all that, but that would mean they weren't raised in Britain. The man wasn't expecting anything magical, but reacted with his wand. The wand snap was a message." He looked over to his boss. "Where was this? Who was...shot?"

"Blaise Zabini." Robards sat back in his chair. "Ring a bell?"

"Not really. Should it?"

"Slytherin. Your father's year, but not a Death Eater, stayed on the sidelines. Ran an antique import business near Weybridge, mostly Muggle things but the occasional magical item, nothing dark. Divorced, no children. Ex-wife's got an air-tight alibi as she's an assistant coach with Harpies and they played Montrose for four hours that night, even did the afters interview with the wireless lot and, specifically, your mum since the manager got tossed bitching about blatching. Nothing was taken, no activity on any of the accounts, Muggle or at Gringotts. Muggle lot started working it up on their end and then once Zabini's name hit the wire we stepped in and sent over to Lupin, that's when he found that footage." He paused, scratched his head for a bit and then shrugged. "Go see Lupin after we're done, maybe he's got more, dunno. I want you to work this, use that Muggle training we paid for and see what you can find out on that side." He closed the folder and slid it across the desk.

James stood up, picked up the folder, started out of the office but stopped at the door and looked back to his boss. "What are the Muggles calling this now, a breaking and entering?"

"Something like that. Go see Lupin."

James nodded and headed out the door, his pulse quick; this was what he'd been trained for, but it still left him with a nervous pit in his stomach. He walked through the Auror desks, waved off Mercer and got an 'I understand' head bob in return, then made his way out to the lifts. After pressing and waiting for the doors to open he thought about taking a look at the folder but realised that it could be possibly read by someone else on the lift or in the hallway and instead just tapped his foot impatiently. It was also at this time, right before the lift doors opened, that he realised he left his Auror robe in Robards' office.

With a muttering of 'crap' under his breath he entered the lift, thankful nobody else was in the car, and pushed the button. As the car sped down, rapidly to the left and then lurched forward before heading further down James was glad that it was fairly early in the morning, as he was only full of two cups of tea. Any breakfast would have probably been coming out unpleasantly. Thankfully the lift slowed and then stopped, doors opening and then stopping half-way open.

"Shit." James wedged himself between the doors, pushing with his back against one door and trying to extend his arms fully. "TEDDY! FIX YOUR DAMN LIFT DOORS!" James heard an unmistakable chuckle and sure enough, Teddy came around the corner. He kept pushing and waiting for his 'brother' to fix the doors, but instead he just stood there and polished his damn glasses on his lab coat. "For fuck's sake, Ted, do something."

With a shake of his head Teddy gave him a resigned smile. "Jay, when was the last time you were in the lab? Password, remember?" He took a look at his watch. "You've got about twenty seconds before the bottom drops out."

"Shit, I don't remember. Help me here, come on!" 

"Fine. Besides, we change it every three weeks." Teddy walked over to the lift, placed his hand on the door and said ' _Newton_.' As soon as the word was out of his mouth the doors retreated fully and it seemed as if the lift car tilted forward, depositing James and his folder onto the floor. He stood over James, hands on his knees. "So, how was America?"

"It was great. Can I get up, now?"

"I don't know, James, _can_ you?"

James closed his eyes. "Goddamnit. Sometimes you can be the most annoying bloke in the world." After getting to his feet and dusting himself off he took a look at his 'older brother'; Teddy looked as he always did, which wasn't hard with the whole metamorphagus thing, but he'd let his hair grow out and for once it wasn't blue, it was more of a dark brown. "What's the matter, Vicky doesn't like blue anymore?"

"Uh, what? Why...oh. Right." Ted gave him a cautious smile. "How long have you been back? Two days?"

"Almost, enough to come back, drop my stuff at the flat and go see Mum and Dad. That's about it. Why?"

Ted looked around the lab, glad that it was empty. "Come on, have a seat. Want some tea?"

"Coffee?"

"You were in America, weren't you?" Ted sat on a stool next to one of the high tables, James taking his place opposite of him. He took out his wand, flicked it in the air and a parchment menu materialised. He took his finger and tapped it in the little box next to where it said 'tea/honey/white – M' and then turned the menu towards James. "Hopefully what you want is on there. New program here. House elves love it because they don't like coming down here."

"Why not?" James looked over the menu, almost pressed an option and then hesitated, finally selecting something with several taps and spun the menu towards Teddy. "What's wrong with the lab?"

"Too much Muggle stuff, not to mention...good Godric, James. Extra-large with white chocolate syrup, two extra espresso shots and whipped cream? Why not just order a diabetes pie?"

"No caffeine. Don't knock it 'til you try it, you take a Pepper Up potion right before and by the time you finish that thing you can pull an overnight stakeout, no problem."

"All right, then." Ted tapped the bottom box on the menu, causing it to chime softly, rollup into a very small ball and disappear. "So you haven't really caught up on things, then, just Mum and Dad type stuff." He looked down for a moment and then grew a beard and began to stroke it.

"That's always been annoying. You know I can't grow one, comes in all patchy." James rolled his eyes. "So back to the topic, why the brown? And why did you try and change the subject off of Vicky?" He watched Ted take a deep breath and adjust his glasses and knew something was off. "Let me guess, she chucked you."

"Annoyingly, you are correct." Ted sat back slightly. "Not long after you left. Said that I work too much, and to be honest we were just moving apart. I went to one of those things of hers and, well, it was dreadful. I think flobberworms are smarter than some of those people."

James winced. "Sorry, Ted. So is she still here or over there?" 

"She's back in France, working for that fashion house, company thing. Whatever it is."

An uncontrollable laugh shot out of James for a brief second. "I know you really don't care because you can't be arsed to learn what it is precisely. You're all about precise."

Ted acted slightly offended. "Nothing wrong about being precise. I mean, it's good to be exacting in one's work. Just like you were when vanishing the knickers off that Colonel's daughter. Very precise." He stared at James and then winked and raised an eyebrow at him.

"Oh fucking hell..." James put his hand on his face. "You..."

"May have made a series of trades with a bloke I know over there in the AMEBs to obtain the master footage and photographs before it got sent upstream and deleted the more, um, well...let's just say that I helped you out, shall we? You owe..."

"Fine, Ted. I owe you, thanks."

"Not me, no. You're not that lucky. You owe Lily."

"Lily? Shit. How?" James paused. "She didn't see..."

Teddy shook his head. "No, she didn't, but she guessed. You're just lucky that American bloke is actually one of the few yanks that follow Quidditch instead of Quodpot. Signed copy of the latest Harpies calendar along with one of Lily's jerseys. Apparently she told her teammates it was for a children's charity."

"Fuck." James put his head in his hands and let out an exasperated sigh, glanced around in irritation and smiled. Ted may be an Auror, but he was painfully obvious about some things. It was with a large smile on his face that he stared at Teddy. It was so fun to wind him up. "So who are you seeing now? What's her name?"

"Er...what makes you say that?" Ted looked at him oddly. "How?"

James sighed and straightened up. "There, on the counter, you've got a whole bunch of roses wrapped up from some florist under what I'm guessing is a statis spell, there's a happy birthday card on your desk and it must mean something to you because it's September and your birthday is in April and you're wearing cologne. It's not bad, really, but when did you start wearing cologne? You're seeing someone."

Thankfully for Teddy there was a chime and then a light flashed over by the wall. He waved his wand, levitating his cup of tea and James' monster-sized coffee thing over to the table. As James took a drink, wiping whipped cream off of his nose, Ted sighed. "I hate it when you and Dad do that. You two are exactly alike."

"Except for the scar, glasses, Quidditch skills, hair colour, living parents, siblings..." He shook his head. "If you're stalling this much it has to be bad. If..." James stopped. "Lily?"

"Little Miss Stinky Feet? Are you mental?" Ted shook his head. "Give me some credit." He paused. "You know her, though."

"Really?" James smirked. "This is gonna be fun. Let's see, you always stared at Esmerelda Johnson, hard not to since she never wore a bra...but she'd never have you. Hmmm, who would..."

Ted sighed. "I knew this would happen. Fine." After a long pause he rolled his eyes. "For your information Esmerelda, while rather fit...Merlin. Fine, it's Rosie."

"Rosie?" James squinted in concentration. "I don't remember anyone at Hogwarts..."

"Rose Weasley."

James sat there as if stunned for a second. "Rosie. Wait, our Rosie? Rosie Weasley. Annoying Rose. Rose. Really?"

"She's not that bad, James. How long has it been since you spent any time with her? Besides family events? When was the last time you saw her?"

"Ummm...when we went to stay with Ron and Hermione when Mum had Laurel."

"And our little sister's eight now, so it's been eight years. Think about how annoying _you_ were back then."

"Ok, ok, fine, people change. You and Rose. Does she still have that weird 'my parents are British but I grew up in America' accent? Wow. What'd Ron an' Hermione say?"

"They're fine with it, really. And lay off her accent." Ted took another sip of tea. "It's not like we see each other that often, with her at Hogwarts. From what I hear the students actually like her class."

James rolled his eyes. "As much as I'd love to talk about History of Magic class and shit Robards sent me down to talk about the..."

"Ah, the Zabini case." Ted paused for a moment, reached over, and then took a sip of James' coffee. "Not bad, horribly sweet, though."

"Ted, what the...I could be ill."

"Are you?"

"No."

"Brother tax."

"You're still an arsehole. Zabini?"

Ted nodded. "Ok, let me give you my theory..."

-ooo-

Nobody on the street paid her any attention. She was just one of the many walking around, and like most of them her age she had on the ubiquitous white headphones, a commonly held symbol of 'don't bother me.' She passed by one of the wide-windowed restaurants on the way to the Metro station and caught a glimpse of her reflection. As she wasn't on a job it was her normal appearance, but her dark hair was getting a bit long. Definitely needed a trim. Something to take care of when she got home.

After descending through the dim light into the stultifyingly dead air of the Metro she swiped her card and walked through the metal detector, confident that her usual charms would keep the weapons hidden. Stupid Muggles; their thought of security was laughable at best. She took a seat on the Red Line train and scanned the other occupants of the car with a professional ease; no threats. A second glance made her reassess that opinion, as one man in a suit a few rows over was not a civilian. Possibly FBI or CIA or something else; the way he held himself was different, alert. Even as he tried to feign indifference by reading the Washington Post. She pulled the leather jacket around her tighter, using it as armor in more than one way. Mimicking the other passengers she brought out her phone, turned up the volume slightly and felt the steady throb of the beat align slightly with her pulse. It was a technique she'd used many, many times, and even though the spook a few seats over wouldn't figure anything out she didn't want to take any chances. She got off at the next stop, even though it meant walking at least ten more blocks to the next Metro station. He glanced at her slightly for a second when she got off but returned to his paper. Clueless.

It was getting late when she got to her apartment, happy to only have to chit-chat with the old Polish woman that lived downstairs for a few moments. After locking the door behind her she switched on the light, as it had become increasingly dark, and slid off her backpack. Sitting it in it's normal spot by the entryway table she pulled out what she needed, a small notebook and her wand.

Walking towards the bathroom she slid off the jacket and threw it on the sofa, starting to relax, and then her phone began to buzz. A quick glance made her sigh, as she didn't really want to talk to her right now, but if she didn't it would lead to more texts and probably at least one voice mail message as she'd ignored the previous four phone calls. Thankfully there hadn't been any messages, but it would only get worse. Sliding her finger across the phone she continued into the bathroom. "Hi Mom."

 _Wendy! I've been trying to reach you for hours. School?_

"Yeah, had a project. What's up?"

 _Your father's orders came in. We're going to Germany in a month._

"That's not bad. I always liked Germany."

 _You may have liked Germany but I'd rather stay in Texas._ She paused. _We're having a small party, just family and friends, next Saturday. Can you come? We'll buy your plane ticket._

She stood in front of the mirror, wand in her hand as her mom's question hung unanswered in her headphones. Maybe she should cut it right above the shoulders, or maybe chin-length. Would make things easier. "I don't know, Mom. I've got to research and papers to grade."

 _Let me know as soon as you can, it only gets more expensive the more we wait. Even with your father's military discount it isn't cheap._

Chin-length. If she didn't like it she could always charm it longer, even if it didn't last that long. "I'll check the schedules tomorrow. That work?"

 _That's fine, honey. So, how's school? Meet anyone special?_

"Mom." She rolled her eyes and started to cut her hair but realized if she messed it up she'd cut her headphones, so she put the wand on the sink. "School's fine. And no, I haven't met anyone. Stop asking. God. Just because you and Dad...it's not like that anymore."

 _Well, you know I worry about you, all alone there in that apartment. Maybe you should get a cat._

"I don't need a cat, I'm fine. Really, I am."

 _Are you eating enough?_

"Jesus, I'm fine. I'm twenty-seven, not seven."

 _It's just...you're our only child and...I know adjunct staff don't make much money. If you need some, just let me know and I'll put some in your account. It won't be that much, but every little bit helps._

Realizing that her mom wouldn't give up, as always, she acquiesced. "Well, I could use a bit more. Buy some more groceries."

 _Good. I'll put some in your account tomorrow. Ok, I have to go, your father will be home soon. Let me know about the ticket as soon as you can. Love you._

"Thanks. Love you too, Mom."

She turned off the phone, took out her headphones and stared at herself in the mirror. Dark hair that looked absolutely nothing like her Mom and Dad. Nothing like screaming 'hey I was adopted' from the highest rafters when you had jet-black hair and both of your parents had blonde hair. No freckles, thank God. Button nose, deep grey eyes. She pulled at her tank-top. Not a bad rack, nothing to write home about, but thankfully not so much that the creeps stared at her. A little bit of a tan from the last weekend. Picking up her wand from the sink she stood straight, extended her arm and swiftly cut her hair in a descending sweep from the back of her head towards the front, leaving her with swaths of hair that angled towards her collarbone. It wasn't something from one of the fashion magazines, but it would do. After a quick vanishing spell to remove the cut hair she turned off the light and headed to her kitchen. All her mom's talk about food made her realize she was hungry.

As the lights snapped on she laughed; it was funny, really. Mom thinking that she needs more money. It would make her happy, so she let the illusion ride. Looking around her apartment she shook her head; there was no way she would ever have been able to afford a place like hers on an adjuct teaching position. The Agency had formulated that cover for her, at her request, as she knew that her parents would accept that easily. She'd been a very good student, but to swing a place like hers she would need to be tenured at minimum. And that just didn't happen anymore.

Pulling things out of the fridge she began to prepare a simple pasta dish, and while the water started towards boiling she retrieved her notebook, flipped on the tv and sat down at the table. While the news played on in the background she licked her finger, pressed it against the spine of the notebook and after the green glow faded she flipped it open.

The names stared back at her, her own handwriting almost like a foreign tongue. Running a finger over the names she said them aloud, as she always did when focusing.

"Daphne Greengrass. Jonathan Borgin. Gregory Goyle. Pansy Parkinson. Draco Malfoy. Lucius Malfoy."

Pulling an ink pen out of the back pocket of her jeans she clicked it several times and then drew a line through Blaise Zabini's name.

-ooo-

James woke suddenly, as one tends to do when they've been doused with water. "What the fuck?" He sat up in bed, wiped his face angrily, and stared at the two idiots in front of him. "I oughta hex the shit out of you guys. Who did it?"

Albus pointed at Teddy. Teddy Pointed at Albus. Both of them wore idential, shit-eating grins.

"Bunch of fucking comedians." James reached over to the nightstand, took out his wand and began the drying spell. "What was so bloody important that you had to do that?"

"You've been asleep for hours." Albus leaned on the doorway, arms casually crossed. "We're supposed to be out at the Burrow in an hour."

"Shit." James looked at his watch. "Fine. Fine. Give me a minute." He watched as they left and fell back onto the sofa, his head hitting the damp pillow. Sometimes he hated those arseholes. And so what if he'd been crashed out? You learned quickly in training to sleep when you could. His father would probably get that, as he had been an Auror. Well, Ted was an Auror, technically, but Al was a bloody Ministry worker, doing the whole regular hours shit. It was probably Al who hit him with the water. Little fucker.

He pulled his legs over the side of the sofa, rummaged around in his rucksack and pulled out some clothes and headed into the loo. It was at times like this he was glad he stayed with Al, as if he was going to have to do the big Granny Weasley production he was going to need a drink before he left. Al usually had a few pints in the fridge. Well, if Ted hadn't drank it all. As he stepped into the shower he wondered if would need to start hunting for a flat of his own. Staying with Al was ok, even if his girlfriend was a clean freak. Of course his parents asked if he wanted to move back into his old room, but he was an Auror with his own paycheck and Gringotts account and would be damned if he would go back to having his mum acting like he was fresh off the Hogwarts Express for summer all over again. As he poured out a very tiny amount of shampoo he laughed, as of course Chloe had some expensive salon stuff for her hair. His hair was cropped very short, military-style, so he didn't need Chloe's posh stuff but it did the job.

He towelled off, did a quick shave with the razor and wondered if the enchantment was wearing off because he had to hit the spot on his chin twice. It would figure that was one of the only areas his beard came in thick.

The two idiots were drinking lager when he came out after dressing. "Any left?"

"Couple." Ted motioned towards the icebox. "Why? Not looking forward to all the questions?"

James answered with his head in the icebox. "What do you think?" 

"I think you should probably drink two." Al sat with his legs crossed as James came in and sat next to him on the sofa. "Luna will be there."

"Fuck me." James took a very long drink, paused only briefly, then drank again heavily. "She's not family, so..."

"You know Gran." Ted shrugged. "Her definition of 'family' is rather expansive."

Al shuddered. "I can't wait. She asks the _worst_ questions. Remember my first year at Hogwarts? It was the first Quidditch match and she asked me if asked the Sorting Hat to put me in Hufflepuff forge my own identity instead of following tradition and going in Gryffindor. Right in front of Melinda Speargrove."

Teddy started laughing. "And, if I remember this correctly, she then asked if you still slept with Mister Fuzzy. It was brilliant."

"Piss off." Al gave him two fingers. "Maybe she'll ask you about Rose and talk about how you guys will make ugly babies."

Ted cleared his throat and straightened up, feigning an air of superiority. "I will have you know that unlike some of us, Rose and I are not living together. I think I'll need to discuss your living arrangements with Granny Weasley."

"Oh fuck, no." Al shook his head. "I hear it every time we go there. Thankfully Chloe's gone to see her parents."

Ted snorted. "Like that will stop Gran."

"Brilliant." James got up, headed into the kitchen and got the second beer.

Eventually they left the flat, the three of them together, just like old times, and when they Apparated outside the ward line James couldn't help but shake his head. It was odd to be back at the Burrow. He'd thought about the place a lot when he was over in America, as no place seemed so...well, welcoming. Sure, he'd spent time with some of the others in the program, one weekend at a friend's parents' house in North Carolina, but it was still different. Now he saw the Burrow with different eyes. It was all lit up with Chinese lanterns strung about the 'garden' outside of the house, tables set up, and a large table was laden with food. As the three brothers headed towards the crowd he slowed his steps, taking it all in. His parents were talking with Ron and Hermione, his uncles and their families were all there, as well as the unmistakable blonde hair and outlandish clothing of Luna Scamander. He scanned further, seeing Lily sitting at a table talking to his cousin Hugo and some woman with red dreadlocks of all things. Someone must have cast quite the compulsion charm to make her think that was a good look, all that mass of clumped hair piled on her head...and that was when he realised it was Rosie Weasley. That made him smile, as it had to drive his Aunt Hermione nuts.

He'd almost made it to the crowd, had waved at his Granddad but then was almost tackled around his midsection by a blur.

"JAY!"

He hugged her tightly and smiled at her expansively-freckled face. "Hey there Laurel. How's my favourite sister?"

"Oh Merlin." She looked up at him, her dark-brown hair falling around her shoulders. "I'm so glad you're here. Lily is being a git. She won't let me borrow her broom. I can borrow yours, right?"

"Sure, squirt." He saw her expression and shook his head. "I don't have it with me right now. It's at the flat. Later."

"Bollocks. It's always later."

He put a hand over her mouth. "Don't let Mum hear you say that or you won't be on a broom until Hogwarts. Plus she'll blame me for the language."

"Fine." She let go of him and looked around. "Maybe I'll nick one from the shed..."

"That'll be worse." He jerked his head towards the party. "Come on, I'm sure they'll break out the brooms and I'll let you fly after they start." He looked quickly to make sure they couldn't be heard and leaned down. "So what do you think of Al's Cleo?"

"Ugh." Laurel scrunched up her nose. "She's too nice. I don't trust her." She looked at him very seriously. "You're an Auror. You should check her out."

He shook his head. "No can do. I'd get in trouble. Big trouble."

She shrugged. "I'm going to go ask Mum if I can have hair like Rosie's. She'll flip and then I'll ask her about the broom."

As she walked away James shook his head. If there was ever going to be a Potter sorted into Slytherin it would be Laurel. After a deep breath he realised he could no longer avoid being the center of attention; after all, this was his 'Welcome Home' party. It had been a year or so, there was no avoiding it. Maybe he could stay away from Luna for a while. Even if he didn't it would keep his mind off the case Robards had given him, which, if he was honest, was bothering him.

Unfortunately for James it was obvious to certain people that he was preoccupied. One former Auror who knew him very well. Thankfully it had been after he'd done the rounds, received all the hugs, answered the questions as best he could, ate too much and ended up sitting at a table with his father.

"Right. What's the problem?" Harry looked over to his son and took off his glasses. "It can't be your performance, I heard they were pleased."

"Shit." James let his head fall back for a moment. "Of course they sent you reports. Can't let me do anything on my own without..."

"James." Harry's voice was cutting. "Please. Robards stopped in my office the other day, about a case he's given you. Said I needed to help run interference with your mum. Said he gave it to you because you were the best qualified to help. That's it. Nothing else." He paused. "There isn't anything else I should know, is there? From when you were in America?"

After wincing slightly James shook his head. "No, I think that...it's fine, Dad. Really. Sorry."

"I know it's a sensitive topic, son. I wouldn't want anyone following up on me when I...well, it happened when I did the Auror bit because, you know. And I know some of the details. I do still have Auror clearance."

"Plus the whole Wizangamot thing." James looked around and realised that most of the party had moved on, leaving them somewhat isolated. He took out his wand and cast a quick, localised privacy spell. "So what do you know about Blaise Zabini? I've read the file, but it doesn't make sense."

"No, it doesn't." Harry put on his glasses and shook his head. "Zabini was never a Death Eater. One of the few Slytherins to truly stay neutral. Makes sense, for a Slytherin, keeping options open. No idea why anyone would want him dead, and the methods..."

As always his dad cut to the quick of things. "Combination of Muggle and magical." James nodded. "I'm going over to the scene tomorrow, see if I can pick up anything."

"Good idea." Harry elbowed him and nodded. "Here comes your Mum, so if she asks..."

"I'm asking your advice on finding a flat of my own."

Harry raised an eyebrow. "Good for you. You know we said we'd help you find a place, but I think she's still holding out hope..."

"Yeah, but come on, Dad. I'm twenty-two. Can't live with you guys or with Ted. And I'm not living with Al and Chloe. That's still weird."

Harry laughed. "Yes, I understand about your flat, I do. Your mum was a bit concerned until she saw how Chloe keeps the place. I had to break up enough fights between you and Ted as it was, I hate to think what it would be like now. Hopefully you've grown up a bit."

James sat there, letting it all sink in. He was much more mature than before, and he'd been given that assignment. As the sounds of the party swirled around him, and he saw Ted sling an arm around Rosie's waist, the idea of a flat of his own didn't sound so bad after all. With the case, though, Merlin knew how often he'd actually be there.

 _ **A/N: Yes, another multi-chapter WIP. This one has been rolling around in my head for quite some time, and even though there are other WIPs to address it pushed to the front. As you can probably tell this story pays no attention whatsoever to the epilogue. I'm trying some different writing techniques, mostly for story generation, but hopefully it'll still be enjoyable. In the future we'll find out more about Wendy, and her hit list. There will be a few twists, though, so it's not going to be a straightforward Auror case story.**_

 _ **I'm going to try to post somewhat regularly on this story, but what schedule that actually meets will remain to be seen. I will return to Lady Black, Lord Potter and Professor Muggle and the Secret Author soon, though.**_

 _ **Oh, and since I never do this, I figured I'd take the opportunity to the standard 'this is JK Rowling's world, just playing with the characters, etc' disclaimer. If there are any proceeds made on this story please direct them to the Endangered Hippogriff fund.**_

 _ **As always, thanks for reading and review if you wish.**_


	2. The Luxury of Hope

**Assassins and Aurors**

 **Chapter 2: The Luxury of Hope**

In a semi-darkened office located in the upper part of a nondescript building a single reading lamp shone on the desk. At that desk a dark-haired, heavy set man flipped over the pages in the folder. He paused, then, after deliberating, wrote something in a scrawl at the bottom of a page. Once the signature was complete the paper lifted from the desk, folded itself into a paper airplane and shot out of the office. The man continued to sit there, only moving slightly to flick his wand at the blinds, closing them but not quite fully, allowing only slits of light to filter into the office. A knock at his door brought him to attention, and he quickly put the folder into a desk drawer. Once that was complete he said 'Enter' in a deep, gruff voice.

A tall woman in a crisp dark suit, the white of her shirt contrasting sharply, opened the door and quickly sat opposite of the man, her decision of where to sit made rather easy by the single, somewhat uncomfortable industrial chair. It looked like something that a lower-end car dealer would have, but she paid it no mind and folded her hands in her lap, waiting.

He glared at her for a moment, leaned over and flicked a switch on the underneath side of his desk and waited as music filled the room. As the music played he took out his wand, flicked it, and the eavesdropping prevention charm flashed sickly yellow all over the walls, ceiling and floor. As the charm finished he looked over to the woman. "Yes?"

"We've got a problem." She reached into her jacket and pulled out a small, flat, palm-sized tablet, placing it directly in front of him. "They've got the Zabini footage."

He raised an eyebrow, took the tablet and held it between his forefinger and thumb, but continued to stare at the woman. "Was it leaked?"

"No." She shook her head. "They've got someone over there that's pretty smart, apparently. We'll need to figure that into things." She paused. "I think we should pull the asset."

"Not happening." He shook his head. "You don't know much about the asset, do you?"

"Just what's been in the reports, Director." After arching an eyebrow at him she continued. "Only what you've wanted me to know, apparently."

He stood up from the desk and went over to the window, peered through the blinds and then stood rather stiffly, hands clasped behind his back, the white of his short-sleeved shirt contrasting with the cheap, black tie. Turning, as if a decision had been made, he stared at her for quite some time. "If I bring you in I'm bringing you in all the way, Rhodes."

"I understand, Director." She hoped she had kept the nervousness out of her voice. Erastus Foote did not give out information lightly, it was one of the reasons that he was Director of the Agency. Going in all the way would not be a safe move, but it could further her along the promotion chain. "Am I to believe the asset was recruited in the normal way?"

He thought about it for a moment and gave her a look. "What do you really think? Stop pulling my chain."

Rhodes let out a breath. "I know that she comes from a military family, did accidental magic on a base in Germany and was funneled into the magical education program. Either she was evaluated and scored appropriately to enter the asset program or did something when her accidental magic occurred to bring her to our attention. I don't know the particulars. Usually its the latter."

He shook his head. "Partially correct. Accidental magic is on record in Germany, but it's her history that's made her different. She's an orphan. Adopted by the Rodwell family, didn't know anything about her past. When the standard education bunch did their background on her they noted her as an anomaly, due to her family. Didn't take much to do a little research, her mother gave birth to her in a Muggle hospital."

After a bit Rhodes looked at him oddly. "So were there the signs of abuse? Indifference after her family found out she's a witch? That's usually what turns assets to our side."

"Not a bit. Loving parents." He watched her face intently as he walked over and sat on the edge of the desk. "And they still don't know she's a witch. Made her embarrassed at first, ashamed, like she'd done something wrong. Her mother was British, happened right after all that Dark Lord shit that went south years ago over there. Eventually she learned that Voldemort, what the so-called Dark Lord named himself, that he killed her father and her mother ran away over here to escape and give birth to her. She's been determined to find her mother. So I gave her a bit of incentive."

Rhodes stared at Foote. "You told her?"

"Are you fucking crazy? Of course not. I had it filtered down, giving it to her bit by bit. Had to make her work for it, see if she really wanted it. Dangle the carrot. She figured out most of the story when she was fourteen, and that's when we gave her the targets."

"She's been on target for that long?" Rhodes sat back in her chair. It was one thing to focus an asset on a target when they'd been through the training, but a fourteen year old girl? "That's..."

"It's what worked." Foote stared at Rhodes. If she was in then there was no room for squeamishness. "We only told her generalities about the targets, that we were still trying to obtain the intel. I let her leash out recently."

"Zabini." Rhodes nodded. "Why him?"

Foote shrugged. "One of those people who want her mother dead. It's why her mom is still hiding to this very day."

Rhodes blinked, trying to maintain her calm. She got Foote's game. Eliminate the targets and the asset's mom no longer needs to hide. Give the orphan what she's always wanted, her real family. What she didn't know was Foote's skin in the game. He was many things but altruistic was not one of them. "So the mother..."

"Will remain my secret. Once the job's done, she'll get what she wants." He stared at her for a moment. "You said we have a problem. I don't like problems. Fix it. Dismissed."

-ooo-

The rain was just beginning as James left the Ministry for Magic and emptied out into the street. He pulled the collar of his jacket a bit tighter, as rain coming down his neck was not pleasurable in the least, and looked at his watch. He was late. Not by a lot, but enough that she would be irritated. Then again, it didn't take much to make his sister irritated.

He stopped by a coffee shop and ordered another 'diabetes pie' coffee, glad that he'd stowed his Auror robe in the backpack earlier. Now he simply looked like one of the multitude that needed a caffeine fix, grey trousers, low desert boots, an open-collared shirt under his jumper and the light jacket. It wasn't far to the letting agent's office, and he was late as it was, so a little longer wouldn't make a difference. Once he received his coffee he made his way through the streets, finally coming to the rather rundown shop. The sign above the door read 'Typewriter Repair' and even though he didn't exactly know what a typewriter was he was sure it wasn't something one needed very often, as the place was tucked away out in the arse-end of nowhere. Al would know what a typewriter was, of course, since he worked with the Muggle department of the Ministry, but there was no way he would ask his brother what the bloody hell a typewriter was; he'd endured Al's lectures on Muggle things one too many times. It was the place, though, Lily had been very specific. He opened the door and sure enough, there she was, looking at a shelf of some sort of thing with keys on it.

"Sorry I'm late." He watched as his sister, her red hair pulled back in a ponytail, turned and scowled at him. He'd seen her before, at the Burrow, but it had only been a quick conversation, just the 'hey how are the Harpies, training was good, glad to be home' kind of thing. Now that he got a chance to look at her it was readily apparent that Quidditch had done her good. She had always been confident in her flying skills but a bit wary if people paid attention to her because of her parents instead of for her as her own person, but that reticence seemed to have melted away. She was confident if a bit irritated.

"Didn't bring me one?" She nodded her head towards his takeaway coffee.

"Sorry, no. Didn't know you drink coffee."

"Coffee? No, tea for me." She paused. "Well, come on. Let's get this started."

With a sigh James followed her. It would figure that she was the only family member that he trusted to help him look for a flat would be Lily; everybody else was busy. His mum had offered to help but said she could only go in the morning, but that didn't work for him; he'd spent the morning with the local Muggle law enforcement agency handling the Zabini case. He'd been nervous when he went in there, as it would be the first time he'd put his training on dealing with the Muggle authorities to practical use, but after a few moments of hesitation they'd verified his identity, his credentials, and led him to the detective handling the case. The man was a veteran of the force, older than his father, and after explaining about how the 'special branch' wanted to examine the scene again he followed the detective to Weybridge. It was a wash, as there was nothing unusual about the scene. After promising to relay any developments to the detective he returned to the Auror office and spent the day doing research. Like the scene of the crime, there was nothing to help him figure out who had killed Zabini, or why.

The letting agent office looked like pretty much every letting agent office ever, Muggle or magical, with the exception that the pictures of all the properties that hung on the walls cycled through different rooms. Two men sat at different desks at the sides of the rooms, talking to people, so he followed Lily to the open desk in the middle of the room, still preoccupied with the case. He sat down in the chair next to his sister and it was then that he took a look at the letting agent sitting across from him.

"Jay? It is you."

His head snapped up and he felt his stomach tighten. Still the same blonde hair, cut chin-length. Still the same faint smattering of freckles. Still the same hazel eyes. The makeup, especially the bright red lipstick was different, though. "It is." He swallowed, hard. "Hello, Melinda."

Lily looked at both of them, going back and forth, and then snapped her fingers. "Hufflepuff, right?"

"Yes." Melinda nodded at Lily but kept her eyes on James. "Your brother and I dated...

"Dated our seventh year for a bit." James felt his pulse begin to thrum slightly in his wrists. Dating was a vast overstatement of the events. Dating, if you could call snogging in out-of-the way places dating, not to mention losing their virginity simultaneously on a Hogsmeade weekend in the Shrieking Shack, of all places. They'd got on well, before that Hogsmeade weekend, but after that it had been...weird. They'd tried but everything just became awkward, so by some sort of unspoken agreement they'd just...drifted apart, out of each other's social circles. He glanced at her for a moment, hesitant of how she would react, but instead of seeing that old awkwardness she was just...smiling at him. Which was odd.

Lily sighed dramatically next to her brother. "I can't take you anywhere." Turning her attention back to Melinda she put on her business face, one that she'd inherited from her mum. "My brother needs a flat, since Albus moved his girlfriend in. I drew the short straw and get to help since he's hopeless at things. So, anything cheap and nasty available? Hopefully in a dreadful part of town?"

James cocked his head and glared at her. "Helpful, Lils. Really. Helpful." Raising his eyebrows a couple of times he turned to Melinda. "All those things she said? That's on the list to avoid." He reached into his pocket and drew out a slip of parchment. "Here's what I'm looking for, bedrooms, price range, that sort of thing." He'd learned from his father to never discuss a price in a public place, as the old man said that it would just end up in the Prophet about how the 'Potters were throwing around Galleons again.' As she took the parchment he noticed that her desk was extremely tidy, no pictures, no flowers, nothing except folders and books and photos of flats. He also noticed that she didn't have a ring on her left hand. While she looked over the parchment he mentally kicked himself. _How would things be any better this time around with her? He'd been an arse back then; granted, he was a seventeen year old arse, and hopefully he was better at some things now that he was older, but she was still rather fit and she'd smiled at him. Idiot._ He kicked himself again, she was working, of course she was going to smile at him, she wanted his business.

Melinda found herself a bit flustered as she looked through the folders. She hadn't thought about James Potter in ages, even though she did follow the Harpies and was quite chuffed to have Lily Potter in her office. For a moment she thought about asking for an autograph as a surprise present for her neice but thought against it; highly unprofessional. Unfortunately James' requests were a bit harder to meet; a magical location but away from the crowded magical parts of London, close access to Muggle businesses, specifically a coffee shop, a private Floo, modern wizarding appliances...it was like picking out a unicorn hair from a haystack. But she knew that she was good at her job, she was closing in on old Turner for the most placements for the month, the first time ever, and wasn't going to let the old goat win.

"I think, with a bit of creativity, we might be able to help you out." She pulled several pieces of parchment from the folders and placed them on the table, turning them so that the two Potters could see the attached photos. "We would need to stretch the budget a bit but this one is..."

"Too posh for him." Lily looked at her brother's dirty look. "What? You don't have a house elf, and does that crown moulding mean anything to you?"

Even though he had been punished for it multiple times, with the way that his sister talked to him he was glad he was rather awful to her as a child. "It's not too posh. And what the hell is crown moulding? I don't want the place if it has mould."

Melinda put on a 'nice to everyone' smile. "Right. Moving on, we have..."

"What about this?" James reached across the desk and pulled out a parchment from one of the folders. "It was just kind of sticking out and it looks nice. Seaside, that'd be good. I've always liked Shell Cottage."

"James. Honestly." Lily turned and shook her head at him. "If you can't manage a flat what in Merlin's name makes you think you can manage a house?"

"Hey." He pointed a finger at her. "I'll have you know that I made it through inspection without a single error, and my seargant made Granny Weasley seem like a pushover." He turned to Melinda. "Is it in my price range?"

The blonde witch nodded. "Much cheaper, actually. It's on a little, tucked away island right off the coast."

"Ha." Lily laughed, but it was a sarcastic laugh. "No coast in London."

"No, it's not in London." Melinda felt hopeful. They'd been trying to rent or sell the place for months, but none of her customers seemed interested. Not because of the house, but because of the location. "Small, little section by the Wash near Sutton Bridge. Very small magical community, only a few houses, with easy access to Muggle shops and such. It's unoccupied, so if you're interested we could pop over and take a look."

James thought about it for about a half-second. Lily would be against going, obviously, and his mum wouldn't be pleased that he would be so far away, but if he was an Auror now, with a case of his own, why not rent an entire house? He could use the privacy and it would be much better than sleeping on the sofa with Al and knickers girl flouncing around.

Melinda cleared her throat. "There's a little coffeeshop, a magical one, close by as well."

James' eyes flashed and he snapped his fingers. "Sounds great. Let's go have a look then."

-ooo-

The sun began sinking over the low, rolling hills off in the distance, clouds in the South promising rain. The man stood next to the fence, one boot up on the lower rail, and felt comforted; they needed the rain. The crops were at a particularly delicate stage, especially some of the more rare seedlings, and if rain did not come soon then the income from St. Mungo's would not be quite as profitable. Substandard potion ingredients didn't bring in the Galleons, let alone meet medical standards.

He turned from the hills and cast his attention back up the hill to the small square of buildings. Initially the old stone house had been enough for the two of them, and they'd retrofitted the place well enough, but when the boys came along it had to change. Abutted against the greying, large stone of the old house was the addition. Even now, looking at it, he felt a sense of pride. It wasn't grand by any stretch of the imagination, Merlin knows his father didn't approve of it, calling it 'a substandard, peasant dwelling,' but he rather liked it. It stood facing what his wife called the courtyard, even though the place between the outbuildings and the house wasn't designed like a traditional courtyard, with fountains or other decorative ornaments. Nothing could be further from the truth, as nothing on the farm was decorative without purpose.

Purpose. He'd searched for that so many times, for so many years, that falling into the land seemed a lifeline. He'd learned how to be a farmer the hard way, literally; he had been assigned hard labour as a condition of his avoidance of Azkaban. The landowner, a widowed Muggleborn, hadn't been keen on his appointment but Potter, as usual, had interceded.

Potter. It had taken years to come to an understanding with the man. At times he still felt the old feelings surface, swim to the top, especially after seeing something in the Prophet about how the former Gryffindor had shepherded some legislation through the Wizangamot. Lucius' lessons were ingrained into his fibre, it seemed, as for a scant moment he thought about how unfair it was that it was Potter and not him in the Wizangamot. But then he would stop, focus his breathing as Astoria had taught him, and begin counting how much he had to be grateful for. He was not in Azkaban. He was married to a woman who he had come to love. He was the father of two sons. He owned the farm. He lived a quiet, private life in Wales away from all of the darkness. He had not visited Malfoy Manor in years. His mother had come to understand his family's need for privacy, but more than that she had come to accept his refutation of all of Lucius' plans for him and his family.

Off in the distance the front door of the house opened, his wife with a kerchief around her head, heading across the courtyard to the 'big shed' as the boys called it. So different than her sister, the one who he was originally contracted to marry. Fate, and Cyrus Greengrass' refusal for his elder daughter, had made that contract unworkable, so it was decided on Astoria. At first his family had been angry; it was a slight to the house of Malfoy. But now, watching as she moved towards the big shed and opened the door, he was glad. Yes, she was not as pretty as her sister, dark hair and a different figure, much larger after the boys, but she was much more of a 'true Slytherin' as his mum would say. Daphne would never have been happy on the farm, but Astoria? She saw it for what it was, what it could be and, more importantly, what it could mean for them. She understood him, something that was still shocking to him, and understood why things had happened in the past. More than that, when they first spoke after the contract had been agreed upon by their parents, she listened. She didn't judge. She gave him a luxury he'd thought had disappeared years ago with Voldemort; she gave him hope. Hope that his life would not follow the plan laid out by Lucius, hope that he could do something with his life, even after the legal restrictions from the Ministry, hope that he would no longer be the boy who tried to kill Dumbledore but the man who had changed the Malfoy name. For the better. She knew everything. It was one of her conditions of the marriage, that they have no secrets. She knew about Pansy.

Pansy Parkinson. He hadn't thought about her in years, so why her name suddenly came to him as the wind picked up and the first sprinkles of rain began to fall, why she suddenly appeared in his thoughts eluded him. He had thought he loved her, back then, in Hogwarts, when he didn't know what love was. It was a physical thing, to him, love. Now, after years with Astoria, he knew what it truly meant. Sacrificing for his wife and family, not because it was expected because he wanted to see them happy. When he first held Scorpius, in that moment he truly understood. He also understood that he would never, in any way or shape, understand how his father could have treated him the way he did. He vowed to Astoria to never be that way, reassured that she told him that the old Draco may have done that, but her Draco never would. And then, later, when he didn't feel like he could contain any more happiness Orpheus was born.

He turned up his collar, eased off the fence and began the long walk back to the house, a sense of contentment landing on him like the raindrops. Of all the things grown on the farm, what made him happiest was the fact that his family had grown there. Just as he felt satisfaction watching the crops grow, season by season, the same feeling, only magnified, came from watching his sons. If only Scorpius' attitude would change. Perhaps it would, like the crops moving into their productive stage. As for Orpheus, well, that boy was his mother's son. She was proud when he'd been sorted into Ravenclaw, breaking the family tradition that had extended to Scorpius.

With the calendar in his mind he thought about a possible date, when Orpheus would be back from Hogwarts. Sixth year was always a hard year, but perhaps they could request him to visit for a weekend. It was while thinking of possible dates, along with the schedule for the crops in the West field that he made his way to the house. He stomped off his boots before opening the door, eased off his coat and put it on the peg. Maybe they needed a good, family dinner like they used to have, before Scorpius left Hogwarts. "Ria, heard from Scorpius lately? I have an idea."

-ooo-

The jetbridge was dark, even with the lights, owing to the later hour. Not only was it dark but the damn thing smelled like jet fuel, which singed the inside of her nose. If the line getting into the damn plane didn't move faster she knew she'd have a headache. Eventually, though, the queue began easing towards the plane. An attendant stood there and held out her hand for her ticket. It was bad enough that she had to fly on this antiquated jet but the airline still used paper fucking tickets.

"Thank you, Miss Kendrick. Enjoy your flight."

Wendy took the ticket back from the attendant and began the slow trudge down the aisle to her seat. There was no fucking way in hell she would enjoy her flight on the Peruvian airline back to DC, especially as there was a woman with a baby two seats ahead of her assigned seat by the window. She took off her backpack, settled it under the seat in front of her and sat down, put on her seatbelt and immediately put on her headphones.

As the low hum of the engines and whatever the fuck else was going on about her she put her head back on the seat and closed her eyes. This was the last part, going back home. Everything else had gone so easy a small part of her figured that her luck wouldn't hold out and everything would go to shit.

Thinking back on it she let out a very small, short chuckle. It had been easy, so fucking easy, especially as Goyle wasn't a very smart wizard. Yes, he'd been smart enough to get out of England after his small stint in Azkaban, lucky enough to be there without Dementors like they used to use back in the day, but dumb in pretty much every other aspect. He hadn't used his surname, that would have been monumentally stupid, but he still used his first name. Wasn't much of a leap from Gregory Goyle to Gregory Doyle. Jesus, what an idiot. And while initially he'd been hard to find once she had the first clue she realized he hadn't covered his tracks very well. Sure, he wasn't wanted anymore, he was 'rehabilitated' according to the Ministry, but going straight from being released from Azkaban to the illegal creature fighting circuit? How in the fuck did that moron get sorted into Slytherin? Ambition had to be the only reason, as everything else she knew about the traits of that Hogwarts house didn't apply, and she definitely knew about the houses. After all, she'd studied for years; to effectively eliminate a target an operative needed to know everything regarding the target. Simple. And simple was a way to describe Goyle. Simple and, as of yesterday, dead.

It had taken quite a while, tracking him down. She knew that he was involved with the fighting circuit, had quite the stable of creatures, but had always been a step or two behind when it came to tracking him. Thankfully Director Foote had provided her with the final piece of intel; his location in Peru and the date. From there it wasn't that hard, as the Peruvian magical community was pretty small, nowhere near as large as it used to be. Kind of hard to believe it even still existed after the wards came down cataclysmically at Machu Picchu and wiped out over ninety percent of the magical population. But small was a good thing for her, as well as Goyle's appetites. It didn't take much money to find the brothel he'd visited, and only a drop of veritaserum and a quick obliviation to find out the rest. Again, she laughed.

Such a sucker. _It was one of the oldest tricks in the book. She'd dressed rather skimpily, using some of the prostitute's clothing she'd stolen, and arrived at his tent outside the arena. Her first look at him had made her shudder, thinking about the poor girl that had to sleep with that. Three hundred and fifty pounds, at least, bald, and no amount of magical soap was going to erase the smell of all that dung from all those different creatures. More than that was the way he looked at her, as if she was something to be used. Cruelly. He walked around her as if he was inspecting a hippogriff for the ring, licking his lips, completely focused, exactly as she wanted._

 _It was when he put a hand under her skirt that she reacted, elbow coming up hard, into his nose. As he rocked back, one hand on his bloody face and the other reaching for her wand, she pulled off her necklace. She remembered thinking how stupid wizards were, never expecting anything physical, while she wrapped the necklace around his throat and began tightening it, his arms flailing around, wand clattering on the floor. For a moment she thought about ending it there, but the feeling of revulsion was too strong. Letting go of the necklace he fell to his knees, gasping for breath, and she pulled out her wand and stunned him._

 _After levitating the bulk onto the bed she went back and picked up her little purse from the floor, reaching in and rooting around for a while until she found the vial. Unlike the usual vials for potion this one was not glass, it was metal. For a reason. Instead of holding the vial she remembered her instructions, levitated the vial over Goyle's mouth and then uncapped the stopper. A foul smell overwhelmed whatever residual smell lived with Goyle, and a fine, blue mist began to seep over the sides of the vial. Knowing she didn't have much time she twisted her wrist slightly, slowly, tipping the contents into Goyle's mouth._

 _The moment the liquid hit his mouth his eyes opened, but he was unable to move. His eyes frantically looked around and finally landed on the girl in front of him._

" _Yeah, you're fucked. You can't talk because that just ate off your tongue. Guess what? Everything else is next and you'll feel it. Eats you out from the inside, but the fun part is you'll still feel everything." She reached into her purse again and pulled out a pistol, fitting on a silencer. "But I don't like to leave things to chance. This is for my Mom." Leveling the pistol at him she pulled the trigger twice, both bullets impacting him in the groin. He thrashed about as blood began to seep into the bed. "I thought about just throwing you to the creatures but if the Chimaera eats you then there's nothing left to prove you're gone. And I want proof." As he continued to flail on the bed, the smell increasing, she summoned his wand and snapped it, throwing it on him._

 _While Goyle continued to die she went over to the mirror, adjusted her hair and removed her trashy makeup and then pulled a robe out of her purse. With the cowl up she watched from the corner as Goyle's movements became slower, fewer and eventually stilled altogether. Satisfied, she left the tent and walked off into the darkness._

She moved aside as a woman sat next to her, obviously an American tourist from the khaki shorts, sandals and t-shirt. It was her luck she'd get an American seat partner on the way back to DC, after how easy the Goyle hit was.

"Hello there, going to be a long flight, isn't it? Did you go to Machu Picchu? It was amazing..."

Wendy shook her head. "No, I'm going home. Drug rehab."

"Oh." The woman stammered and looked away. "Well, I hope things are better."

After shrugging Wendy ignored the woman and replaced her headphones, turning up the volume loud enough so that the music slightly bled through, and obvious hint to be left alone. Once the woman had settled in and had begun looking through the airline provided promotional magazine Wendy reached down into her backpack, hiding her lick of her finger and the stroke of the notebook's spine by the position of her torso, and when that was completed she sat back in the seat. As the plane began it's taxi towards takeoff she clicked the pen several times and drew a line through Gregory Goyle's name.

-ooo-

As light poured in through the windows James began to wake, irritated that he hadn't done anything about the uncovered windows as of yet. He stretched, kicked down the duvet and swung a leg over the side of the bed, rubbing his eyes. After closing his eyes, and breathing deeply a few times, he felt sleep begin to go away and ran a hand over the patchy stubble on his face. After the trip he'd been on he needed coffee. Badly.

Once he'd been to the toilet and thrown on some clothes he took a look around his house. It was odd, having a house, like a real grown-up, but he did have a house. A house that was still full of boxes and that had only a bed as furniture, but a house nonetheless. After a quick look at his watch he realised that he didn't have much time, that Teddy would be there soon, so once he'd done the mental calculation he walked out the door and headed towards the coffeeshop.

It had only taken him a few steps to confirm what he'd thought before; it was brilliant living by the shore. The wind was mild, but enough to bring the smell of the sea to him, and the light...Merlin, the light. Brilliant blues and greens of the sky and grass contrasted with the sand of the beach. His feet echoed slightly on the wooden pathway from his house down to the main road, and he walked alongside the pathway, his destination only a half-kilometer away. He could have Apparated there, obviously, but there was something about the walk that made him...well, happy. As did the rapidly approaching door of The Caffeine Cauldron.

As he opened the green door a little bell rang, causing the old witch behind the counter to look up and wave. He waved back, making his way towards her. "Morning, Cordelia."

"Morning, Mr. P. The same as last?"

He nodded and watched as the grey-haired, wiry witch with the kind eyes began brewing his drink. It was one of the nice things about the shop, how the witch treated him, none of the 'oh, it's a Potter' kind of things, just a friendly little visit. She'd been very happy to know he'd moved into his house, as it had been empty for a while, and the small wizarding community was welcoming. A bit gossipy and forward at first, but eventually they'd all settled down. He'd stopped at the shop with Melinda and Lily when he'd come to look at the place, one of his prerequisites before making a decision, and had come back again with Melinda after they did the final walkthrough and he'd signed the papers. He still wasn't sure about Melinda, as their meetings seemed a little more charged with an undercurrent than other business-type meetings, that was for sure. She'd even offered to help him find some furniture, which reminded him that he still hadn't done that yet. Maybe he would send her an owl...

"Here you are." Cordelia slid the coffee onto the counter. She waved him away when he went to reach for his money. "Don't bother, I'll start a tab. Stop in at the end of the month to settle, if you please."

"Perfect. Thanks." James took the coffee and then a sip, luxuriating in the drink. "And this is perfect as well. You're my favourite witch in the world."

She waved him off. "Go on, you charmer. I said I'd run you a tab, stop trying to get it for free."

He shrugged, assumed a 'hey, you can't help me for trying' smirk and headed off to one of the comfortable chairs near the window. Between sips and becoming more human he thought back on his last trip, trying to make a connection between the cases, but was still coming up empty. The bell rang, pulling his attention back to reality and then he really began to grin; Teddy Lupin was holding the door open for Rose Weasley.

He waved at them, they nodded and placed their orders. It was still funny to him, seeing Ted and Rose together. He knew Ted well, after all he was basically his older brother even if he was his father's godson, living with them for most of his life. Rose, though? Rose was something of a mystery, even if they were cousins. The fact that she'd grown up over in America meant that he hadn't seen her that often, mostly at family events, and with the size of his family that meant they hadn't really spent a lot of time together. Plus, the last time he'd seen her she had been really, really annoying.

The sat down next to him and put their drinks on the little table between them. He looked at each drink and wrinkled up his forehead. "Ok, Ted's a tea, that never changes, what are you..."

"Just a black coffee." Rose moved some of her dreadlocks over her shoulder. "Ted tells me you drink one of those frou-frou things."

"Froo...what?" He looked over to Ted. "You told me you liked it when you stole a drink in the lab."

"I may have reconsidered. And it is rather unnecessarily complicated, not to mention full of fat and sugar." Ted adjusted his glasses. "I am told that..."

"Whatever." James took a drink and savoured the taste. "So Ted, how can you do what you need to do today with her along? Isn't that against the rules or something?"

Rose rolled her eyes. "Oh come on, Jamie, I know better than that. I'm going to read on the beach while he's busy."

James shifted in his seat. He didn't like being called by his childhood nickname. Nobody really did that anymore except for his parents and Granny Weasley. "Right. Of course. What are you reading, the History of Everything in the World? That's first year stuff, right?"

"Some things never change." Rose reached for her coffee and took a sip. "For your information, as if I expect you to retain this, I'm reading Missington's Diary." She saw his blank look. "Missington? The eighteenth century wizard who kept a diary, who documented wizarding life..."

"Rose, we had Binns." Ted put his hand on her shoulder and whispered loud enough for James to hear. "And he slept through history."

"Everybody slept through Binns." James sat back in his chair and crossed his legs. "So you're reading some old, dead wizard's diary? Isn't that a bit, I dunno, rude?"

Rose cocked her head to the side. "We learn so much about the day to day things, things that aren't in the textbooks, it's like Samuel Pepys..."

"Ted..." James shook his head. "Now she's finding out what some bloke named Samuel peeps at...are you sure you want to be with her?"

"God, you are annoying." Rose sat back in her chair and looked over to Ted. "Why don't you two go do whatever it is we're here for and then we can leave. I'll just stay here. Maybe I'll have another coffee and a bit to eat."

"Works for me." James got up and purposely turned away as Ted stood and gave Rose a quick peck on the lips. "Come on."

As Ted followed James out the door he shook his head. "You two have always been that way. What's your problem with Rose?"

"Annoying, like I said." As they walked down the pathway towards the house James turned to him. "She's all right, it's just...I don't know. It's like there's this big sign on her that says 'don't poke' and it just makes me want to poke her with a stick or something. Maybe one a bit sharp on the end."

"James, James, James...sometimes I wonder if you're still six after all. You may have rented a house..."

"Bought."

"What?" Ted turned to him. "I thought you..."

"Nah, didn't make sense. Got a great deal on it, too." As they continued to walk he waited for the question and decided to head it off before it came. "And no, I didn't just do it. I talked to Dad first. Geez, Ted, give me some credit."

"Well, if Harry agreed, that is something, then. It does make things a bit easier as well."

"Huh? How's that make it easier?"

Ted pointed to the house. "I'll tell you when we get inside. You do have the basic wards up, correct? I'd hate to think you didn't learn your lesson..."

James felt a bit warm, not because of the sun or the fact they'd been walking. "Yeah, I remembered. Not like there's a swimming pool here anyway."

"No, just the whole ocean." He shook his head. "Inside. Wait, please." Ted was quiet as they walked along, and as they got closer, almost to the little wooden walkway, he shook his head. "I'm quite surprised at you, James. This seems like a rather, well, it's a remarkably well-preserved example of mid-era British..."

"It's a house, Ted. A cozy little house next to the sea and the coffeeshop and I like it. I don't care if it's a..."

Ted swerved in his steps, purposely bumping James off-stride. "Yes, I'm well aware of your lack of interest in such things, but...it's a very nice little house, James."

"Not so shocking, I can pick a good house." James huffed. "But I haven't sorted it inside, yet." As James opened the door and let Ted inside he saw his brother smile. "Yeah, I know. I've been busy." As Ted walked further into the house James closed the door. "Not to mention I've been in bloody Peru."

"Ah, ah, ah!" Ted pulled out his wand. "Not yet, Auror. Let me see to things first."

James watched as Ted walked around, casting spells, strengthening his wards, all sorts of 'Teddy' things. Since he didn't have a chair he pulled an empty pizza box off of the kitchen counter and transfigured it into a chair, sat down and waited. Thankfully it didn't take too long before Ted was finished. "Well?"

"Surprisingly, for you, the privacy wards were nicely done. I've incorporated the standard Auror domicile spells and a few of..." He paused. "A few of Bill's specialities as well."

James nodded. "Heard from Vicky?"

"No." Ted's hair began to turn a dark blue at the ends. "I have not. It's fine. I'm not bothered."

"Liar. I'd tell you to look in the mirror but I don't have one." James pointed to his own hair. "Blue tips, Ted."

"Bollocks." Ted leaned against the kitchen counter. "I know it shouldn't bother me but it does, somehow. Rose has been wonderful..."

"I'll take your word for it."

Eager to move the topic away from his love life Teddy pulled the single mug from the cupboard and transfigured it into a rather plush chair. "Enough of that. So, what can you tell me about Peru? I've seen the file, anything else?"

James drained the last bit of coffee from his cup. "Not a damn thing. Same as Zabini, magic and bullets. If the file's like the Peruvian Aurors I met then you know everything. Bloody thorough, that lot. Thing is, the Peruvians said they'd never seen a body like that. Eaten away from the inside. Done any research?"

"Actually, yes." Ted straightened his glasses, his serious expression emphasised by the beard that began growing. "We've come across a reference to a potion that was supposed to achieve the same results, but it was never verified."

"So ask the person? I can do that."

"Afraid not." Ted shook his head. "The reference was in the personal effects of a Death Eater. All such material was catalogued for future purposes, exactly this situation. As the Death Eater in question was Severus Snape I'm sure you've grasped the difficulty."

"Fucking hell." James absentmindedly reached forward for the coffee cup before realising that it was empty. "So now what? We're looking for a Death Eater, then? Not many of those left."

"A Death Eater? Perhaps, perhaps not. The staff assigned to cataloguing the Death Eater artifacts has a rather pecuiliar history. Some of them are in St. Mungo's in the Janus Thickey ward, two of them took their own lives and several more are currently unaccounted for at the present time. Only a few of them are still known and, thankfully, sane. The story is that there's a curse on the artifacts."

"Pffft." James blew out his lips. "This isn't the Defense position at Hogwarts, how can you curse some Death Eater's shopping list?" He paused. "Shit. You can, can't you? I mean, individually you can curse a comb or a book or whatever, but that amount of things? A large blanket curse? That'd be like saying I'm going to curse everything in Grandpa Weasley's shed. With one spell. Cursing..."

"Doesn't work that way, I'm aware. So is everyone else." Ted took a small sip of his takeaway tea. "I've looked into it. Everyone in the research departments of the Ministry, including the Unspeakables, have looked into it, but we haven't drawn any workable conclusions. You might..." He stopped.

"I might what?" James leaned forward. "Ted?"

"You might need to talk to Dad about this. One of the few sane ones left is Dennis Creevey."

"So? Why would I need Dad?"

"Because Creevey has turned his back on the wizarding world. He's gone Muggle. Refuses to answer owls, even sent his wand to the Ministry and said he'd give up his magic. Doesn't work like that, of course, but I doubt he'd be very enthusiastic about answering questions from an Auror. Harry Potter, on the other hand, might be a different story."

"Fuck." James stood up and began to pace, oblivious to the fact that his pizza box had regained it's former form. "I hate asking Dad for help. I wanted..."

"Yes, I know." Ted nodded. He knew how much James hated being judged by his surname and wanted to do things on his own, to earn them rather than to be given them. He knew it was one of the reasons that James had agree to enter the program in America for a year. He also knew that he would have a rather uncomfortable conversation when he accompanied Rose back to Hogwarts later that day. "If it is any consolation to you I'll ask Snape's portrait when I go to Hogwarts."

That stopped James in his tracks. He'd visited with the portrait of Severus Snape twice in the headmaster's office, both times when he was in detention. To say it wasn't pleasant was like saying that a mountain troll would win Witch Weekly's sexiest wizard award. He come out of both conversations full of doubt, feeling entirely inadequate and with his skin crawling. Needless to say he'd never mentioned those conversations with his parents. But if Ted would be willing to talk to Snape's portrait it felt like a very small thing to ask his father for help.

"Ok, Ted. Point taken. I'll go see Dad later."

"Good." Ted clapped his hands together and began rubbing them in anticipation. "Now let's get your Floo sorted."

 _ **A/N: For the record I claim no credit whatsoever for the name of Erastus Foote. That came from a friend who said it would be a good name for a character in an HP fic and she was right. Thank you, the chocolate frogs are on the way.**_

 _ **I did some research and tried to figure out if Goyle had been a marked Death Eater and then realized that it didn't matter in the least, specifically for this story. I'm sure someone out there knows or we'll find out as a throwaway line on Pottermore or something like that.**_

 _ **Not a ton of action (unless you're a Goyle fan and then it wasn't good) but we'll see things pick up a bit soon. I'm sure it doesn't take a Ravenclaw drunk on Felix Felicis to figure out that James and Wendy will cross paths sometime soon; the how's and why's of it, though are still being thought through, though. (Inordinately happy with the last words of that sentence.) As for who Wendy's parents are? I know, but it's always interesting to see who people think. Feel free to guess. Who knows, maybe I'll incorporate some ideas into the story? And Dad, that update schedule? As fun as it would be it completely isn't happening.**_

 _ **As always, thanks for reading and review if you wish.**_


	3. Bloodlines

**Assassins and Aurors**

 **Chapter 3: Bloodlines**

The large television set hung on the wall, taking up most of the space on the surface across from the sofa. Onscreen some woman was sitting down, talking to the late night talk show host about something stupid, as usual, but Wendy had only listened for a bit before turning her attention back to the folders on the coffeetable. Her mother liked that talk show host, they'd watched him often enough when her father had been deployed overseas. Thinking about her mother made her pull over a very battered, creased and coffeestained folder. It was unlike the official folders that also lay on her table, as it had none of the marks or warnings that unauthorized viewing was punishable by law, instead it was the same type of folder that could be purchased at any office supply company. Also, unlike the agency folders, the intelligence inside was rather slim. She opened the folder, for what seemed like the millionth time, and went through it.

The first document was her birth certificate. Under the space for her father's name was simply a blank. Her mother's name was listed as Ariadne Tumblehill, which made her laugh. An obvious fake name. She'd gathered the student rolls at Hogwarts for fifteen years before her birth and there were no students listed on the roll named Tumblehill, male or female. Also there was only one student named Ariadne, currently married to a man named Wilson. It was obvious from the research she'd done that there was no way Ariadne Wilson could be her mother; the woman couldn't have children and she and her husband had adopted. It had taken a bit of off-hours and off-the-record work on her part to procure the Hogwarts rolls, not to mention a horrible date with that skeevy wizard in Research, but it had been worth it. The clue about Hogwarts was one of the first things she'd ever learned, Director Foote had informed her during one of her first meetings, and from then on he'd been helpful, passing her small bits of information, but she'd worked most of it out on her own. And then, after she'd done a few missions, he sat her down and told her about her most important mission. Revenge on her father's killers.

She closed her mother's folder and reached forward for the others, the official ones with Agency intelligence, going over them slowly, one by one. The ones left on the list weren't hard to find, that wasn't the difficult part; actually getting to them would be much more of a challenge because of their fame, infamy or because of the magic they used to protect themselves. Zabini and Goyle had been easy, almost too easy. But the others?

She picked up the Greengrass folder, able to recite the facts almost from memory. _High end art gallery owner in Stockholm. Unmarried. Last romantic involvement was an artist witch from Geneva._ She flipped over the photographs and clippings from the society magazines. A very visible, high risk target. She closed the folder and picked up the next one. Borgin. _Retired dark object dealer. Lived alone in an isolated, massively warded property in Ireland. Never ventured out except on very rare occasions._ Much less of a visible target but harder to approach. The next folder was much smaller, almost empty. Parkinson. _Disappeared not long after the Battle of Hogwarts. Location unknown. Last verified sighting in London, at the Portkey office. No records of the portkey origination or destination, all files removed._ As that file was still a complete mystery she picked up the much thicker folder. Draco Malfoy. _Ministry example of a reformed Death Eater. Completed terms of punishment and probation on a farm in Wales. Married to Daphne Greengrass' sister Astoria. Two children, Scorpius and Orpheus. Currently a farmer in Wales, provided magical crops to hospitals. Farm was hidden under a Fidelius, no clue of it's actual location._ She smiled. It would be ironic, breaking a Fidelius somehow to take out a former Death Eater.

The smile grew into something towards a nasty smirk as she picked up the last folder. "So, Lucius Malfoy, it's your lucky day. Thanks to our agents we know how to get through your wards." She flipped open the folder, as she had with the others, but didn't go throught the recitation of facts in her head. She'd studied this folder longer than the rest, as it had been the first name she'd ever discovered that was linked to her father's murder. The Lucius Malfoy file was much thicker than the others, the crimes listed immesurable. She still didn't know how the hell he'd managed to somehow make it out of Azkaban after ten years with all the evidence they had on him, knowing that even if he was released on 'humanitarian grounds because of a fatal illness' dying that way, like every one else, was too good for the likes of him. She quickly flipped past all of the background detail, all the intelligence about him and picked up the last piece of paper, the layout of Malfoy Manor. Setting it aside for a moment she took out her phone, tapped for a few minutes and sat back. Her reservations were made. In two weeks she could cross off another name from her list.

-ooo-

The waitress dropped off their dessert and James smiled; he'd made it all the way through the meal to dessert and it had been going well. He watched as Melinda delicately took a bite of tart and felt that after the crap he'd endured for the last two weeks things were definitely looking up. There'd been no movement on the Zabini and Goyle cases, despite his work with different groups of Aurors, not to mention the utter failure that had been the attempt to talk to Dennis Creevey. Seeing him and his father made the man go into a shell, refusing to speak, until finally his wife made them leave. It made his stomach turn into a knot, at that house, a knot as real as the handgun hidden by a concelament charm on his hip. It felt odd, having the handgun, but he was licensed and authorised. Robards had called him an idiot, telling him he was an Auror, that he carried a wand; what was one other weapon?

"How's your tart?" Melinda looked over at him oddly. "Something wrong?"

"No, sorry." He took a big forkful of treacle tart, looked at her and gave her an apologetic wince. "Just thinking about work. Sorry, shouldn't do that while we're out."

"Oh. I understand." She took a sip of her tea. "It must be hard, not being able to talk about things." After pausing a second she looked at him. "Can you tell me anything? You don't have to, you know, it's just...after what's been in the papers..."

He chewed quickly. "Yeah, sorry, can't say. Wish I could." He reached over for his coffee but paused. "So, um, Al and his girlfriend are having a dinner party next Saturday. Don't suppose you're free that night, are you?"

"James? Are you..."

"Yeah. I know we haven't really gone out much, just a few times, but..."

"I think it sounds like fun." She pushed her hair behind her ear and leaned forward. "Will I know anyone?"

"Um, I think so." He took a sip of coffee. "Al and Chloe, his girlfriend, obviously, and Teddy and Rose will be there." He saw her confusion. "Rose is my cousin, she's teaching at Hogwarts now. Other than that I think it's just a few people from Al's department at the Ministry. Lily's out of town."

"Oh. Too bad." She shrugged at his surprise and in a semi-embarrassed tone explained that she followed Harpies Quidditch.

"Figures. Oh well. Sorry, you'll learn later why she's annoying. Good at Quidditch, annoying, though." He watched as Melinda shrugged, still surprised that she had agreed to go out with him after everything that had happened at Hogwarts. It was while thinking about their date to the Muggle cinema, how she'd grabbed him during the horror movie, that he felt his trousers pocket begin to vibrate, hard. "Shit, hold on a second. Work." Reaching into his pocket he felt annoyed, as the date was going well, but after flipping open the little tablet he saw that every active duty Auror had been called into the office. Not only that, though, the text was red and blinking at him.

"Shit!" He stood up quickly. "Um, sorry Melinda, I've got to go. Now." He reached into his other pocket, pulled out some Galleons and sat it on the table. Before leaving, though, he hesitated, walked over and kissed her on the cheek, and told her that he'd be in touch about the dinner party.

Thankful that they were at a Wizarding restaurant James hurried over to the Floo, grabbed a rather large handful of powder in his haste and threw it down, and disappeared in the flames towards the Auror office.

From the moment he arrived James could tell that something big had happened. The office was packed full, people moving all over, their voices somewhat frantic. He heard Robards yelling and then felt someone come through the Floo and hit him in the back. Picking himself up off of the floor he felt a hand on his arm, helping him to his feet.

"Floo, then move."

"Thanks, Ted. What's going on?"

Teddy shook his head. "I don't know, but it can't be good. Come on."

As they made their way into the office Auror Mercer, James' desk neighbour, met them. "Come on, Robards is giving a briefing in his office. Your dad's here, too."

"Dad?" James looked over to Ted. If Harry was there it had to be big. Really big.

They made their way into the queue that was forming towards Robards' office, happy to see that when they got through the door that it had been expanded to fit all of them. Moving on towards the middle of the room, alongside the other Aurors who were standing and waiting, James took them in. All of them had nervous looks upon their faces. When they finally stopped near the wall James looked up towards Robards desk and saw his father talking with the Head Auror. After a few moments he saw Robards nod, stand up from his desk and look over the crowd.

The voices died down. Robards looked over to Harry, nodded and cleared his voice. "About a half hour ago Lucius Malfoy was murdered at Malfoy Manor."

The crowd began to murmur a bit but soon stopped as Robards had banged his hand on his desk. "Shut up. You heard me right, Lucius Malfoy. He was found in his chair by his wife, who contacted us immediately. I've asked Mr. Potter here because he has some information about the scene." He turned. "Harry?"

"Thanks, Gawain." Harry surveyed the Aurors, locking eyes briefly with James and Teddy. "As a condition of Mr. Malfoy's release he was confined to his house. While that is well known, in addition to the standard wards and confinement charms what has not been made public knowledge until this time is that the Ministry placed an additional ward on the property. A ward that all of you are required to not divulge to anyone, that includes your wives, your family and especially the press. There was a bloodline at Malfoy Manor." Harry waited a moment as the statement caused another outbreak of murmuring. He held up his hand, eventually causing the Aurors to quiet down. "Yes, I'm well aware that bloodlines are borderline dark magic. But instead of keeping others not related to a family out this one was also modified to keep him in. Blood relatives of the Malfoy family could enter, but he couldn't leave. So you see why we've called an all hands. We're also trying to ascertain exactly why this happened, as the reports we received at the Wizangamot from St. Mungo's indicated that he had, at best, six to eight months to live."

As one Auror who specialised in healing asked how it was possible for Malfoy to get treatment Robards waved the question away. He stood there with his hands on his hips. "Listen, now you know about the bloodline but there's more to it. We've sent word to the ward specialists that we need entry into the home, and they'll arrive shortly. But before we go to the scene there's another piece of information; according to his wife not only was Malfoy killed by magic but also, from what she said, by being shot in the head by a Muggle gun."

Out in the crowd Teddy elbowed James. He turned and very quietly told Ted 'I heard.'

"Right." Robards picked up a piece of parchment from his desk. "This is gonna be all over the press so we're doing this by the book. Location team, get some robes and gather your gear. I want you ready in ten. I want the Forward team to set up a perimeter and nobody, I mean nobody except the Aurors gets in without my say so. Investigative team, along with Lupin and Potter, you're with me. Everybody else will stay here, be ready if I call you in and in case this is just a damn feint I want those currently on duty to remain so. We've still got a country to protect. We..." He paused as a red parchment airplane flew through the doorway and hovered before him. Taking the airplane and unfolding the parchment he scanned it and then turned to the room. "Warders are here, robe up. We leave in ten."

As the room became a mass scramble James felt Ted grab his arm and pull him along towards the lifts. After they entered and Teddy hit the button to go down to the lab he turned to James. "Bloody hell, Jay. Lucius Malfoy."

"No shit."

The lights from different floors briefly flashed as the lift made its way down to the lab. Once the doors opened partially and after Teddy gave the password he hurried through the lab, went over to a cupboard and pulled out a large, leather valise. Moving to the lockers he pulled out his Auror robe and turned to James. "Have a robe here?"

"Crap. No."

"Here." Ted reached in and threw his spare robe toward James.

"Ewww...this stinks." James held it at arm's length. "What'd you do to this?"

"Damn, forgot." Ted took out his wand and cast several spells, unfortunately only lessing the smell. "Haven't sent it off for cleaning yet, ran some experiments the other day on a scene. Come on."

-ooo-

The evening had started well, in Draco's opinion. Scorpius had finally agreed to dinner, Astoria had been successful at requesting Orpheus' absence from Hogwarts and they'd sat down to have a nice, family meal.

They didn't make it fifteen minutes.

Initially the conversation had been light and enjoyable, Orpheus excitedly telling them about Hogwarts, but when the subject of History of Magic had come up Scorpius had begun making disparaging remarks about having a Weasley teach, of all things, as they were a 'family full of bloodtraitors and Mugglelovers.' Astoria had been aghast at his comments, wondering where he'd heard such things, but for Draco the origin was quite clear. His father. As Astoria chastised him about saying such things he saw the confused look on Orpheus' face, as the Scorpius who was currently sitting at the table was not the brother he knew. He had worried that something like this might happen, with Scorpius seeing Lucius so regularly; he and Astoria had talked about it at night, before bed, several times. Unfortunately with the bloodline it was the only possibility, as no other Healer could attend to Lucius. He thought back immediately to how happy he and Astoria had been when Scorpius had decided to be a Healer, remembered how proud Scorpius had been, how determined his son was to not only heal others but to help change the Malfoy name, but that naive desire had vanished when the reality of being a Healer, a Healer with the last name Malfoy, that hope had disappeared within the first week. Many patients refused to be attended by Scorpius, one old witch even calling him a Death Eater, and his son had been forced to care for incapacitated patients along with other menial work. He'd tried to reason with him, to tell Scorpius that he could overcome their objections by work, but it had fallen on deaf ears. And then, when his father had been released to the Manor, and when Scorpius was the only Healer who could care for his father? It hadn't made him sleep easier.

As some of his worst fears were coming to pass, listening to Scorpius argue with Astoria and Orpheus, the Floo flared into a large green flame with his mother's head in the fire. Her voice was strained, frantic as she called his name. The argument paused everyone went to the Floo. He listened as his mother told them that something was wrong with Lucius, something very wrong, and part of his consciousness heard the door slam and the pop of Apparition. Asking his mother to open the Floo he stood up, saw that Scorpius was gone and looked at Astoria. She nodded, put an arm around Orpheus and let him away from the fireplace. She knew where he was going, what he had to do.

Draco arrived in the fireplace, not bothering to remove the Floo powder, and saw his mother sitting in a chair, her head in her hands. Part of him wanted to comfort her, but he held back. It was wrong, he knew, to be glad of his father's death but he still couldn't help it. After everything that had happened he was glad it was over. Finally over. After a deep breath he went over and knelt beside her. "Mother, we knew it would happen. He was not well."

"That's not it." Narcissa raised her head, anger in her eyes. "He was murdered. Murdered, Draco! In our house!"

"No, that can't...Mother." She had turned away from him, staring at her shoes, her hands flitting like wounded birds in her lap. He reached out and put a hand over hers, stilling them, but she did not respond. "Mother. Mummy?"

That brought Narcissa out of her reverie. She stared at him, her emotions all over the place. "They murdered him just like Zabini and Goyle."

Draco sat back on his heels, letting go of his mother's hands. Of course he'd heard about Zabini and Goyle. It had scared Astoria to no end, the fear that they would come for him. After all, Zabini and Goyle hadn't been involved as he had. And now they'd come for his father. Successfully. Even through the bloodline. He stood up quickly. "Where is he?"

Narcissa did not answer, only pointed down the hall.

Rapidly rising to his feet he walked down the hallway to the only room that held light, the library. As soon as he walked in he saw Scorpius waving his wand over his father's corpse. There, sitting in his armchair, a woolen blanket over his legs, was Lucius. The long blonde hair was gone now, it had been ever since Azkaban, but for some reason he expected to see his father as he had been before Voldemort had ruined everything. He stopped for a moment, paused, and reworded his thoughts; before his father had ruined everything. Part of his brain recognised that Scorpius was beyond livid, casting diagnostic spells with emphatic jabs of his wand. And then he saw exactly what was causing his son so much pain. Most of the back of his father's head was gone, a grotesque amount of blood and tissue on the back of the chair, spilling down onto the carpet.

And then, despite the horrific scene in front of him he reacted as a father. Scorpius made no movement to acknowledge that his father was there, but Draco reached out and pulled him close. "Come on, there's nothing you can do here. Come on."

Scorpius continued to cast spells within his father's embrace for a moment but then turned to him. "They fucking murdered him! Why? He wouldn't have made it to Christmas!"

"Shhh...come on. Come on. The Aurors will be here soon."

Pushing him away Scorpius glared. "Like they'll fucking help. They're probably happy! They won't care."

"Come on. They'll do their job. You need to see to your grandmother."

"Grandmother? What's wrong?" Scorpius' anger flared again. "What'd they do to her?"

"Nothing, she's in shock. Come on, she needs a Healer but more than that she needs to see you."

As Draco moved Scorpius out of the room, his arm around his son, he heard the Floo flare several times. When they arrived at the sitting room he saw several Aurors there but locked eyes with Harry Potter. His history with Potter made him angry initially, that he would be there to gloat, but instead he saw the anger in Potter's eyes as well. Somehow that comforted him. He deposited Scorpius with his mother, watched as he began diagnostic spells on her and then stepped over to where Potter and an Auror with a shockingly blue beard and glasses stood nearby.

"Potter..."

Harry shook his head. "I'm sorry, Malfoy. This shouldn't have been possible."

"Agreed." Draco's eyes flitted to the blue haired man and he waited until the man and another young Auror headed off towards the library. Once they were gone Draco jerked his head slightly in the direction of another room. He stepped away quickly, Potter's footsteps close behind. When they were sufficiently away from his mother he turned around. "Explain."

Potter shook his head. "I'm afraid I can't. We're just starting things now." He sighed deeply and took off his glasses. "It would be best if Narcissa came to the Ministry. We need to contain the scene. Has anyone else..."

"Just Scorpius. I've not been here long. Mother flooed and he came over, I found him doing diagnostic spells. I have an alibi..."

Harry shook his head. "We know it's not you." He paused. "Unless you know something about Goyle and Zabini?"

Draco arched an eyebrow. "Tired of mucking about in the Wizangamot? Back to being an Auror, Potter?"

"No, I'm retired. But this is different." He paused. "You know why."

"Oh, I'm very aware of your reasons." After a moment he paused, let out an exasperated sigh and rubbed his eyes. "I apologise. I know very well how..."

"Malfoy...Draco, I understand. And I won't let anything get swept under the rug, I promise. Now I know it's...there really isn't a good time or a good way to say it; we really need you and your mother to come into the office for some questions. Anything you know, anything you can remember might help us find out who did this."

Draco nodded, thinking about what he was going to say to Astoria and the boys. He was silent for a bit, and Potter, thankfully, let him be. Eventually he looked over to him. "Astoria and Orpheus are at the farm. I would rather have someone escort them to the Ministry than have them Floo or Apparate right now, but you know the difficulties there."

Harry nodded. Only him, Robards and Kingsley Shacklebolt knew the location of Malfoy's farm. He was the secret keeper, one of the conditions of Malfoy's probation ending. "I could go, I suppose."

"No." Draco shook his head. "It'll be bad enough, but if you show up? They will think the worst. I'm sorry, you know it's the truth."

"Right. Right." He thought for a moment and came up empty. "Robards is going to be here for...I don't know how long he'll be. And Shacklebolt, I know he'll be briefed, but...you'd have to agree to one more person knowing. Are you ok with that?"

Draco looked at him oddly for a moment and then laughed, a short, sardonic laugh that held no mirth. "I don't believe I'm in any position to protest, given that my father's in there missing most of his head."

"No." Harry shook his head seriously. "I promised you, any changes you'd have full choice."

"Thank you." He paused and then looked up at Potter. "I do thank you. Harry."

The shock of his first name seemed to pull Harry out of his surprise. "You're welcome. Suggestions?"

Draco's mind raced. He was not comfortable with just any Auror knowing his farm's location. It was while somehow staring at Potter's lack of Auror robe, taking in the Muggle jeans and fraying jumper that he remembered something. "Your son is an Auror, correct?"

Harry nodded. "He is, but I think he's..."

"Him. Only him. I have my reasons."

"Ok, then. James it is." Harry started to head off down the hall but stopped when he realised that Malfoy wasn't following. "For the record, Draco, I may have hated your father almost more than anyone in the world but we will find out what happened and who did this."

"Thank you. Please send your son, I don't want Astoria and Orpheus alone much longer."

Without saying a word Harry nodded and headed off, leaving Draco standing there alone in the darkened hallway.

-ooo-

The nerves didn't dissipate as James arrived in Wales with the pop of Apparition. He knew from his father that this was part of the job, a part that his dad truly hated, as he told him that it never got easier. Compound that with the fact that only a few minutes before he had been face to face with Draco Malfoy, listening as the man who had tormented his father all through Hogwarts entrusted him with the location of his house, something the press had been trying to discover for years. After agreeing to not divulge the location he was surprised that Malfoy let him leave without a wizard's oath but was glad; he'd never done that and knew the consequences if someone broke one of those.

Standing still for a minute he composed his nerves; it would be bad enough, what he had to do, but to do it badly was something he'd never forgive. Instead he focused on the buildings. They didn't look like something a Malfoy would live in, nothing compared to the oppressive grandeur of Malfoy Manor. Instead they were old, stone buildings, one of them obviously the house, a new addition grafted onto the front. That was the building that had lights. That must be where he needed to go.

After a few steps he felt the ward line's magic crackle around him and then let go. He had been worried about the wards but Malfoy had assured him that his Auror badge would see him through, apparently one of the allowable tickets through the magic. Even through he fought it he continued on, thinking about the Malfoy family. He'd known of Scorpius at Hogwarts, of course. Everyone knew of Malfoy, but outside of Slytherin he didn't seem to have too many friends. It wasn't that he was a bad kid, it was just...people tended to leave him to his own devices. He'd had a rough go of it at first, there had been a few incidents, but eventually everyone seemed to accept that Scorpius didn't care much about anything except his studies. He'd seen him in the library often enough. Didn't play Quidditch, just...studied. And now he was going to have to tell his mother and his brother about Lucius.

Not knowing if he was expected or not, something he'd forgotten to ask, he made his way to the door and knocked. He heard movement inside and shortly thereafter the door opened, revealing a dark-haired boy who was around sixth or seventh year at Hogwarts. He didn't say a word to James, instead he turned and said 'MUM' in a very loud voice. Not knowing what else to do James stood there, hands clasped in front of his waist.

"Orpheus, what..." The dark-haired woman stopped and put a hand to her chest. "Is..."

"May I come in?" James asked tentatively.

"Of course."

Mrs. Malfoy opened the door and he entered, shutting it quietly behind him. He watched as the boy went over to his mother, slightly taller than her, and put an arm around her. His father was right, this was horrible. Taking a deep breath he started. "I'm sorry to inform you that tonight Lucius Malfoy was murdered in his home."

Mrs. Malfoy didn't seem to react; her face was blank. Her son, though, got an odd look on his face, as if he didn't understand. Since James wasn't sure what to do or say he waited there as well.

Finally Mrs. Malfoy turned to her son. "Go get your school things." As he left she turned to James. "Was Scorpius there?"

He nodded. "Yes, he was. He's currently at the Auror office with Mrs. Malfoy. The other Mrs. Malfoy. Your husband asked that I accompany you to the office as well."

Astoria looked him over intently. "Who are you? Draco let you through?"

He nodded. "Yes ma'am. I'm James Potter." He watched as some of the tension seemed to leave her face. "I've sworn to keep your location secret."

"Very well." She hesitated for a moment, looking back away from the door, then turned to him. "Lucius was murdered? At the Manor? How is that possible?"

"We don't know, Mrs. Malfoy, but we're working on it." As he watched Orpheus come into the room and begin talking to his mother he looked around the room. It was nothing like he expected after being in Malfoy Manor. The house was tastefully decorated, nothing posh, just a normal room that reminded him of his parents' house. Thankfully they didn't notice him looking around when they both came back to him. "If you have everything you'll need we'll go past the wardline and take a portkey to the Auror office." Noticing Mrs. Malfoy's eyes narrow at the word 'portkey' he began talking quickly. "It's a new portkey, created by the Head Auror with Mr. Malfoy watching. It's right here." He pushed back his robe and pulled out a box that Ted has used earlier at the scene, something from one of his devices, not realising that his robe had not fully closed; instead it had caught on something.

"Is that a Muggle thing?" Orpheus pointed at his waist.

Looking down James internally cursed himself. "Yes. It is."

Astoria narrowed her eyes again. "Is that a Muggle gun?"

James nodded. "It is. I'm licensed by the Ministry." As panic began to set in, because even if they didn't know that Lucius had been shot he certainly did. Instead of just assuring them it was fine his mouth began to work of its own accord. "I went to special training. Every bullet that I have is marked by the Ministry and traced. I've never even used it as an Auror." He quickly pulled his robe closed, hoping they'd forget about it.

"Very well." Mrs. Malfoy nodded. She took out her wand, turned out most of the lights and turned to him.

Without saying a word James opened the door, exited, and once Mrs. Malfoy locked the door he led them once again through the wards. Once that was complete he pulled out Teddy's box, waited until everyone was touching it, and tapped it with his wand. Right before the portkey flashed blue and took them away he heard a cow off in the distance, the sound ominous in his mind.

He had never been happier to apparate into the Auror Office in his life. Thankfully Draco Malfoy was there waiting for him, and he stood there as the family came together. It was odd; he expected crying and emotion, as that was what he'd always thought would happen on this type of thing, but instead the Malfoy family was very quiet. Draco put his hand on his son's shoulder as he led them down the hallway to the interview rooms, accompanied by an older Auror.

Not knowing what else to do he made his way to his desk, only to find a note from Teddy that said 'LAB – ASAP.' In very small letters underneath was the word 'eureka.' He took off Ted's robe, glad to be rid of the smelly thing, draped it over his arm and headed to the lift. This time, thankfully, when the doors partially opened he gave the password and headed into the lab.

It wasn't just Ted in the lab, though. His father sat in the background, reading through a folder. Robards stood next to a lab table with parchment spread all over it next to Ted, a witch and wizard he didn't know and of all people his Uncle Bill. As he got closer his footsteps broke their concentration and everyone looked at him. He threw Ted's robe on a chair and walked forward but nobody said anything. He swallowed hard. "They're here. It went fine."

Robards left the table and went over to him. "Stop pretending. It's never easy, kid. Here." He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small flask. "Never gets easier."

"Thanks." After a quick drink of firewhiskey he gave the flask back to his boss, thankful that he understood that even if he said things were fine it still bothered him. Especially as it was at odds to what he thought would happen. "So what do we know? Scene still active?"

"It is." Ted, this time with somewhat greenish hair, adjusted his glasses. "You'll come with me tomorrow to go over things again, but you need to hear this." Teddy's eyes turned to Bill.

"James, you know how wards work, right?" Bill took off his reading glasses and sat them on the lab table. "Generally?"

"Yeah, I'm not a curse breaker or anything but, yeah. I do."

"Good, that'll make this easier." Bill turned a small map of Malfoy Manor around on the table for him to see. "This is a wardmap taken about an hour ago. Wardlines are in different colours. Tell me what you see."

He looked down at the map. There were a lot of lines, in different shades, mostly of blue and green, that overlapped each other. But following the lines he saw one spot in the back of the property that were fainter than the others. One thing that was obvious, though, was the thick, red line that encircled the property. "Um, well, they're not straight wards, they're connected, but they're messed up back there." He pointed towards the faint lines. "But the red line isn't faint at all. Is that the bloodline?"

"It is." Bill looked at him and nodded. "The spot you pointed out? Where the lines are hazy? That means someone popped a hole in the wards. Curse breakers do it all the time, but we don't do it temporarily. We're not curse benders. But since the lines are still together that means someone basically lifted the curses and came through. The only way you can do that is if you know exactly what wards are on a property."

"Fuck." James shook his head. "So somebody knew exactly what wards were there but didn't know about the bloodline. And they still got in. That means...Merlin." He watched as every head nodded agreement. "A Malfoy did this."

"Precisely." Ted reached over and pulled another piece of parchment off the table. "This is the Ministry record of every Malfoy that's ever gone to Hogwarts or had a Gringotts account. Every single one is accounted for except the person who shot Lucius Malfoy. Oh, and your Goyle investigation? Same MO. Potion eating them away from inside."

"So somebody is hunting former Death Eaters?" James shook his head. "But Zabini and Goyle weren't marked, they didn't have the Dark Mark."

"Neither did Malfoy." Harry sat there and shook his head. "It was burnt off of him. Ted thinks it was acid but he's still running tests."

"Jesus." James looked over to Robards. "I think I'm going to need some help. I know I trained last year and all, but..."

"Good." Robards gave Harry a small smile and turned back to James. "Takes a good Auror to realise when he needs help. You and Lupin are going back out there tomorrow, along with two others. My office at nine tomorrow. Go get some sleep, you'll need it."

James knew when he was dismissed, and saw Teddy starting to gather up his things, but he looked over to his father. "Dad?"

"Go on, son. We've got to put something together for the press." He motioned toward the door. "You too, Ted. Need you both sharp tomorrow."

-ooo-

Draco closed the door and walked down the hallway, the carpet muffling his steps, and pressed the small piece of plastic against the door. As the lock clicked, and the light turned green, he went inside the room; it was like the ones the boys were in, clean, a somewhat ugly-coloured duvet on the bed, and entirely Muggle. Even though the hour was edging more towards morning than night he still didn't feel tired. Astoria sat on the bed, in bra and underwear as they hadn't gathered anything from the farm. He went over and sat next to her, feeling the energy drain. It had been hard to get the boys to settle, for entirely different reasons. Orpheus had been confused, worried that something would happen to him, and admitted in a quiet moment that he felt bad; not because his grandfather was gone but instead that he didn't really feel sad that his grandfather was gone. He understood his youngest son's ambivalence, as he too shared the feeling. Scorpius, on the other hand, was livid. For a moment it felt to Draco as if he was looking in a mirror, all those years ago. He tried to get through but his oldest son would have none of it and eventually turned away towards the wall whilst he was trying to talk to him.

Sliding off his shoes he turned to Astoria. "What are we going to do about Scorpius?"

"I don't know." She sat next to him, unmoving, staring straight ahead at the horrid painting on the wall. "I tried talking to him when the Aurors brought us here. You should have heard him, going on about staying in a 'filthy Muggle' place like this. It was all I could do to keep him quiet when the Auror checked us in."

"I think he's the only one that's upset." Draco turned to her and Astoria came back to herself and looked at him. "Orpheus told me he felt bad because, well, he's not sad Lucius is gone."

"That makes two of us, then." Astoria nodded. "You?'

"Honestly I'm of the same mind. It's sad to think that your father is dead, isn't it? Then again, he wasn't much of a father."

Before Astoria could respond there was a sharp knock on the door. As Draco was still dressed he made his way to the door, noting the time on the Muggle clock. 3:25 a.m. He opened the door and stood there for a moment, shocked to see his mother still fully dressed in her robes.

"Mum, you can't walk around like that."

Narcissa ignored him. "A word, please."

Resigning himself to more missed sleep he exited, followed her a few doors down and watched as she struggled with the door. Taking the plastic from her hand he tapped it against the door, opened it, and she walked through without saying a word. As he closed the door he watched as she sat, perfectly straight, on the chair and glared at him. As there was nowhere else to sit he lowered himself to the end of her still-made bed.

"I knew you would be the death of your father." She glared at him, her words sharp. "And you have."

"What?" Draco shook his head. "I've done nothing of the sort."

She pointed a finger at him, jabbing it for emphasis. "You know of the bloodline, you know no one but a Malfoy may enter the Manor with the wards active. And they didn't compromise the Floo, I was sitting by the Floo the entire night and no one used it until the Aurors. Your mistakes have ruined this family."

Draco stood up and began to pace. "You're wrong, Mother. How, how have I ruined this family?" He glared at her. "Father, Father was the one who took the Dark Mark. Father was the one who offered the Manor to, to _him_. I'm the one who's made the name Malfoy something other than a curse. How have I ruined the family?"

"Because you couldn't keep it in your pants, that's how. Your child must have done this."

"Are you mental?" He waved his arms about. "Scorpius and Orpheus were with us, we were having dinner!"

Narcissa's expression was drawn and cold. "No. Not the boys. Your oldest child."

"What in bloody hell are you talking about?" He sat down again. "You're not making sense. I don't have any other kids."

"Pansy Parkinson." She glared at him. "The little whore obviously didn't go through with it."

"Pansy?" Draco sat back, shocked. "What in Merlin's name does Pansy have to do with this?"

Narcissa sucked in her cheeks, her face beginning to flush. "She came to me, crying, wailing about how it wouldn't be possible with you in Azkaban. That it wouldn't be fair to your child. I agreed and gave her the gold to take care of it."

He sat back, stunned. Pansy had been pregnant? With his child? "You knew this and you never told me. You never said a word."

"I felt it wasn't necessary."

"It wasn't _necessary_?" He stood up and began pacing again, running his hands through his hair. "It wasn't fucking necessary?"

Despite Draco's animation Narcissa sat motionless. "Not in the least. The child would have complicated matters with the Greengrass family. She assured me that it would be taken care of, discreetly. I only helped make the arrangements to ensure the portkey records would disappear. She must have taken the Galleons I gave her and fled." She watched as her son stopped pacing. "She was never a proper match for you. Your father agreed. We allowed your little relationship at Hogwarts but thought we would have the time to make you see the error of your ways."

"Right. Right." He turned and shook his head. "The error of my ways? You had no right to do that. No right at all."

She shook her head. "Don't be ridiculous. Of course I did. I'm your mother."

"Fuck." He turned his head up to the ceiling for a long time before turning back to her. "So, somewhere out there, is my child."

Narcissa's expression darkened. "A child of yours that killed your father."

In the little Muggle hotel room Draco felt his world crashing down around him. His father had been murdered, which was hard enough to deal with, but now with his mother's revelation he saw all of his life with Astoria crumbling at his feet. Without saying a word to his mother he turned and left the room.

-ooo-

The little coffeeshop was nondescript, one of the bland, boring chains that had swept across what seemingly felt like the entire earth. In some respects that made her happy, as she knew what she ordered would taste correctly, but after a while they simply got old. As she looked like one of the crowd nobody paid attention to her, dressed in jeans and a hooded sweatshirt. She'd left the hood up, defense against the gloomy rain, and looked like any other of the multitudes of writers finishing a crappy novel with her laptop, notebook and ever-present headphones.

Her instructions were different this time, which irritated her. Usually after a job she'd leave on the next plane, but her text from Foote said to wait for contact. He'd sent her the address and told her to wait for further instructions, so that's what she'd done. Every now and then she'd glance up at someone coming in the door, glad that the moron in the suit had left with his morning paper, leaving the perfect spot open to watch the door.

She didn't know why it was so important to wait for a contact. It had been incredibly easy. Her information on the wards was perfect, and the runestone and the shielded electronic amplifier had worked effortlessly. She'd gone in, done the job and left as directed. Hell, she'd even restarted the wards. That hadn't been in the orders but she knew it would throw anybody off, making them try to figure out how she'd done it.

As the door opened again she glanced up, noticed the woman in the business suit and turned back to her book. It had only been a page later when she saw someone sit across from her. The woman in the business suit.

"Can I help you?" Wendy looked over at the woman, waiting for a sign. She was middle-aged, dark hair, bright red lipstick. Definitely not one to blend in.

"Maybe, I'm a little lost and need directions." She sipped her coffee and watched as the girl's eyes took in the American accent. "You look like you know your way around."

"Maybe." Wendy watched as the woman took out her phone, tapped it a few times and then, before placing it face down on the table, saw the Agency logo. "I think I can."

"Good." The woman reached into her bag and pulled out a folder. "I'm trying to get to here." Turning the folder around she pushed it slightly across the table. "Can you show me where that is?"

"Sure." Wendy reached down and picked up her bag, putting her things inside. "Ready?"

"I am." The woman took the folder back and put it in her bag, standing up. She picked up her coffee and followed the young woman out the door.

They walked for a block or two in silence before turning down an alley. As they made their way down the alley they stopped behind a large garbage container.

"Ok, what now?" Wendy looked at the other woman. "Who are you?"

"Carrie Rhodes. I work for Director Foote. Wendy Rodwell, I presume?"

"Yeah, that's me." Wendy looked at Rhodes carefully. "So what now?"

Rhodes reached into her bag and took out a large, overstuffed envelope. "Foote thinks it's too hot for you to come back now. Stay in Britain for a while. This should help out. New ID, cards, money. Play tourist. They know it's someone who knows about non-magical things so they'll be looking at every plane passenger very carefully."

Wendy snorted. "I've done it before."

Rhodes winced. "Not like this. You've never had this high visibility of a target."

"Malfoy was an old man on his deathbed. A convicted criminal. I just helped him along."

"And I'm going to help you." Rhodes hesitated, just for a moment. "You've been on target since you were fourteen. Right?"

"More or less."

After a deep sigh Rhodes shook her head. "You're twenty-seven. Almost half of your life on target is no life at all." She looked around the alley, taking in the grime, the garbage and especially the smell. She thought it was appropriate. "What happens in the end? Do you think Foote's going to let you find your mother and just leave the Agency to be one, big happy family? It doesn't work like that."

That made Wendy pause. After all these years she'd never thought about what would happen afterwards with the Agency. Foote had never discussed that. She also knew that people didn't retire from the Agency as field agents. Too valuable. Shaking it off she turned to Rhodes. "Why do you care? What, you want me to be like you?"

Rhodes huffed. "Listen, you little cocky bitch, I was almost you. I didn't make it though the program and instead got shuffled into...it doesn't matter. The Agency is your life, whether you like it or not. Sure, you have that fancy apartment and shit, but do you think Foote will...fuck it." She turned and took a step before stopping. After a moment she turned back and went up to Wendy with a troubled look on her face. "I think Foote is lying to you. About everything. I can't prove it yet, but I know he's been playing you. You want to know about your mother? He's had all the intel for years. _Years_. Never said one fucking word, did he?"

"What?" Wendy stepped closer, angry. "What the fuck are you talking about? She's missing. He wouldn't."

"She's not. And he did." She reached into her bag and pulled out a folder. "It's all in here. I copied it from his files. I don't trust him and you shouldn't either." Thrusting the folder forward so it hit Wendy in the stomach she couldn't contain herself. "Here. Take the damn thing."

Without breaking eye contact Wendy took the folder. "I could tell him everything about this conversation."

Rhodes laughed. "You know what? I don't care. He's played me before and he's playing you. Read that, follow up and if you still think I'm lying tell him. Tell him exactly what happened today."

Confused, Wendy looked at her intently. "Why are you doing this? Really?"

Rhodes licked her lips for a moment. "You know how most get into the Agency, don't you? Hmmm?"

"Yeah. I do." Wendy nodded. "You?"

After closing her eyes and shaking her head for a moment Rhodes looked over to Wendy, locking eyes. "You have parents, adoptive ones, even, that love you. Somewhere in that file you'll find your real mother. Mine found out I was a witch...we went on vacation. Stopped at a rest area. I went to the bathroom and when I came out they were gone. You have choices. I didn't. That's why." After a few moments she sighed. "My private number is in your mother's file. This conversation never happened."

As Rhodes walked away Wendy stood there by the garbage bins. After a few moments, when Rhodes was gone, she leaned against the wall, opened the folder and saw a face staring out at her from a picture in a Hogwarts uniform. A Slytherin Hogwarts uniform. She turned the photo over and there, on the back, was the name.

Pansy Parkinson.

 _ **A/N: So not quite the revelations from the Cursed Child but still a minor bombshell of sorts. Still don't know Foote's game, we'll see eventually. Lot going on, hopefully not too much, and yes I know a lot of it was dialogue in spots. I'd really tried to cut that down but this chapter just called for it.**_

 _ **As always, thanks for reading and review if you wish.**_


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